


Hereafter | Haikyuu!! Short Stories

by aidemint, mei (aidemint)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anime, Future, Future Fic, Gen, Haikyuu - Freeform, Multi, Other, Short Stories, Volleyball, haikyuu manga, x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:47:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 22,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25961575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidemint/pseuds/aidemint, https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidemint/pseuds/mei
Summary: A collection of short stories set in the future.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Commencement

** Hereafter **

A collection of short stories set in the future.

__

GENDER NEUTRAL

__

**"i've loved you since forever ago."**


	2. Arcs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Masterlist of stories.

**1\. Parisian Dreams**

_I: Caramel Overture_

_II: Lavender Wishes_

_III: Strawberry Delight_

_IV: Vanilla Melody_

** 2\. Alien **

_I: Black Hole_

_II: Pluto_

_III: Mars_

_IV: Venus_

** 3\. Weakness **

_I: The Strong_

_II: The Curious_

_III: The Vulnerable_

_IV: A Weakness_   


** 4\. Looking a Little Surprised **

_I: Enthused  
_

_II: Astonished_

** 5\. Since Forever **

_I: Wagashi_

_II: Evening Bike Rides_

_III: Honeymoon Blvd_

_IV: Gold_

** 6\. Sunshine **

_I: Warm Blankets_

_II: Hoodied Hugs_

_III: Claw Machines_

_IV: Morning Cuddles_

** 7\. Knew You **

_I: Where We Choose Not To Step_

_II: The Hearts We Don't Tell_

_III: Ephemeral_

** 8\. Exhibition **

_I: Dinosaur Skeletons_

_II: Cafe Study Sessions_

_III: Flustered But Adoring_

** 9\. Vogue **

_I: Pose For Me_

_II: Spotlight_

_III: Runway_

** 10\. Order Up **

_I: Rice_

_II: Filling_

_III: Nori_

**11\. Club's Got Room For Two**

_I: Flashing Lights_   


_II: Dreamy Skies_

_III: Southside Motorcycle Rides_

**12\. Game On**

_I: Victory_

_II: Defeat_


	3. Parisian Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chocolatier meets someone under interesting circumstances.

**SOUNDTRACK:**

_MERRY GO ROUND OF LIFE (HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE) ; THE GRISSINI PROJECT_

____

This story is best enjoyed while listening to the song.


	4. Caramel Overture

The streets of Paris were often quiet at night. As the night rolled on, undulating, and the stars glimmered overhead, the atmosphere sang. Sweet melodies fluttered through the streets and alleyways, filling the void with liveliness that seemed to give life to one's feet. A Parisian couldn't help but waltz alone, hearing this music. As they clapped their hands and danced around the tender harmony with the breeze as their partner, the moment could've captured them in its gentle hold. 

Though you were alone, you didn't feel lonely.

I found myself enraptured by this.

Every night, when I got off work, I'd stroll through the many streets of Paris and look above at the lamps that shrouded the view of the sky, then smile. It was nice, to be surrounded by such a serene setting, and not have to worry about the problems in life. I'd dance on the balls of my feet, my boots tapping on the stone-paved road as I flew ahead with my arms spread wide. Shops lined the sidewalk in which I ventured across, the warming golden light coming from the stores shining onto me as I flitted across the city of love. 

My hair would be tousled by the wind, air would rush through my fingertips, and I would just love it to no end. The way my heart thrummed with such passion, such fervor, made me savor the jumble of inexplicable feelings I had with the utmost gratitude. It was so delicate, yet held so much ferocity and vehemence. 

I never knew that such a thing would lead me to happiness through another, once upon a wonted Parisian night.

__

As the stars glowed with their usual brightness, and a quietness finally settled among the streets, the music began -- the silent yet oh-so-lovely melody. I felt my heels lift off of the ground and my body start to balance itself on the balls of my feet. My mouth split into a wide grin as I lavished in the utter enchantment I was surrounded by. Tonight was just like any other night -- peacefully mysterious -- but once I turned a corner on one of the avenues, I was met with a wonderful surprise.

The smell of sweet confections perfumed the air, making my cheeks warm up in utter bliss. A delicious cocoa scent wafted into the streets from a local chocolate shop, inciting a sense of curiosity deep within me. What was this scent that filled my vision with hints of gold and luminescent flecks, that dashed color across my irises like an abstract painting? It gave me so much hope yet depleted all the energy out of my soul at the same time as it was directed solely to the formation of these sheen clouds -- it was beautiful.

I wanted to explore; I wanted to know what this godsend was. 

My feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they led me to approach the store. 

I felt my fingers wrap tightly around the cold, steel knob of the door as I twisted it to go inside the chocolaterie. As heels of my boots clicked against the metal frame of the door, they gently tapped off any snow carried in from outside. When the door creaked open, the night's song seemed to come to its climax as the piano's glissando finally reached the top key. 

Immediately, a wave of warmth hit my face, and along with it came a burst of fragrance that sent my olfactory into ecstasy. Note after note, skilled fingers upon a keyboard dashed across the keys and the accompanying violinist strung their bow across the strings of their wooden instrument, resounding in perfect harmony with the pianist.

The evening's aria had been laced with golden twine, glistening and glimmering like sugar cubes in a small, glass jar. Confections and delights of all sorts surrounded me as I dove deeper into the chocolate shop. From truffles to bon bons, everything was laid out in perfect order on their respective displays. I spotted a row of glacé chocolate at the front of the shop, each one having a thinly layered coating of browned sugar atop their chocolate shells.

And if the wonderland could not have been any more astounding, I spotted a lone chocolatier behind the counter, pouring an auric filling into a cube-shaped mold. His white hat stood tall on top of his head, buzz-cut hair in tiny, stiff peaks just underneath the garment. 

Caramel drooled from the spoon he held as he poured it into the small chocolate mold, a glossy waterfall of milk and sugar filling the casing of cacao. I watched him, fascinated with the way his wrist flicked and his fingers moved ever so precisely — it seemed that they had been trained somewhere else before, though I knew not the place nor time in which they had been.

When the door closed behind me and the sound of a small bell rang out, I could only stop and stare at the chocolatier's reaction.

He turned from his work just to take a glance at me, the only customer that dared to come at this hour. Oh, but I wasn't at all complaining.

Upon the first look at his face, I was immediately entranced by him.

His eyes widened, then crinkled as a large, welcoming smile spread across his fox-like features. That expression made my insides tingle with delight and my heart flutter about my rib cage, smoothly gliding across the ballroom floor that was my chest's inner chamber. The silent yet defeaning sound of the piano cast its resplendent melody into both of my ears, making the room darken and all the light direct itself to a single ray that cast itself on the red-head.

Perhaps I was being melodramatic, but I sought a sensitive yet tenacious emotion with passion — the feeling of completion, of being whole and not lonely as I had once been — and as my cheeks reddened and flushed with mawkish fervor at the sight of this chocolatier, I knew that I had finally found it. 

It was quite the odd sensation, and I wasn't sure if it was love or not, but it was a strong feeling nevertheless. All I could hear was the evening's melody ringing in my eardrums, drowning out any other noise, no matter how loud. I winced at the throbbing that had now started to pound in my skull, although there was no real sound to be heard in a fantasy.

But curiously enough, when the red-haired chocolatier's voice pierced the utopian quietness, the waltzing music suddenly cut out from my world, and I was only left with the thrum of my own heart, running quicker than ever before. I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering what phenomena this was a part of. It only took one word for him to completely hush any inflection that was left, and to bring me back into reality:

"Welcome."


	5. Lavender Wishes

The word left his mouth, and suddenly there were none in mine. His accent was foreign, and though I couldn't pinpoint it, it seemed so familiar, like I'd heard this tongue before. When I'd realized I paused for too long, just staring at him, my cheeks flushed. I could only nod slightly in his direction and smile as my gaze averted from his to the floor. It was unprecedented, how shy I would become once in the immediate presence of him -- I suppose I just hadn't thought this all the way through. 

A thought suddenly struck me, leaving me more sheepish than I had already been: how strange would it be that someone just walked into a shop because they wanted to live out a fantasy? 

My teeth tugged at my bottom lip in embarrassment as I slowly made my way around the shop, pretending to be invested in the act of purchasing chocolate to get my mind off of my own stupidity. I felt the chocolatier's eyes on my back for most of the "adventure" around the establishment -- a feeling that I just couldn't shake off so easily, especially when I realized the roles had reversed, from me ogling him, to him staring me down.

But eventually, after all the endless mind games and weird tingling sensations at the back of my neck, it became too tempting to turn around and properly face him. I was about to look over my shoulder before the red-head's voice rang out in the awkward silence.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" The question took me by surprise, though it was a common phrase that shopkeeps asked. 

"Oh! N-Not really," I stammered, startled by the sudden inquiry, "I just really enjoyed the smell -- it's a lovely perfume in a night like this, so I thought I'd check it out." The chocolatier chuckled at my response and went back to filling the caramel bon bons. After a few minutes, he disappeared into the back of the shop, presumably to finish making the chocolates and pop them in the chiller.

He came back only moments later to peer over the counter and shoot a grin at me, to which I reciprocated with a wobbly smile. The man seemed entertained by my reactions, as his eyes sparkled with a childlike humor whenever I was in the position to give an inelegant response to his randomness.

"I can recommend some of my favorites, if you'd like!" The more I looked into his behavior, the more it seemed like he was guessing how the situation would play out and acting in favor of that postulation. But what really baffled me was that he never showed any sign of hesitation, nor did he ever look like he was about to second-guess himself.

It was a peculiar trait, but his confidence made it endearing all the same. 

Perhaps it was that reason why I decided to play along. 

"Sure?" My answer was laced with uncertainty, but a yes was a yes nevertheless. The red-head nodded and crossed over from his side of the counter to mine in order to show me around. He pointed out various flavors of cacao confections, describing the textures and piquancies of each in a passionate manner. I wouldn't have expected anything less, from a man who lived and breathed chocolate.

"I saved the best for last." The chocolatier's voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back into the real world as my eyes focused from nothingness to the object he put onto the palm of his slender hand. 

There sat a small box of lavender and honeycomb chocolate, each bundle individually packaged in a refined yet simplistic box with a gorgeous light purple bow on top, the edges dipped in gold. Although there were only six pieces in each package, I knew from the heavily fragrant smell that the chocolate gave off, that however small they were, their moreishness would be enough to satisfy even the most insatiable of customers.

"If you'd like to take something home, I recommend getting this," the red-head suggested, offering me the small cube of confections, "It's a nice treat for nights when you feel alone."

Though I knew that he just wanted some business, I couldn't help but feel a happiness bloom within my heart, as fictional as the reason for it to sprout may have been. However, after the short-term rapture, I then knew that no matter how falsely romantic this scene was, it wouldn't contribute to the development of our relations with one another. To be as foolish as I was certainly a talent, but unfortunately, not the best one -- that was something I'd always recognized to be true.

I hesitated, thinking wistfully for a moment before I did something I'd regret later. In my head, the scene played out perfectly: I'd accept his offer, visit the chocolate shop every day, and eventually we'd fall in love and kiss underneath the Eiffel Tower at midnight.

It was almost laughable, how childish I still was, but then again, he sounded so sincere, it was borderline deceit, cheating me of all that reality had to offer.

Finally looking up at the figure in front of me with creased eyes and a small, sentimental smile, I shook my head in refusal, politely rejecting the tiny crate of chocolate.

"Perhaps I'll leave the alleviating of my loneliness as a task for you, someday," I murmured, pushing back his hand and tapping it twice, "I hope you'll consider." As soon as I turned on my heel, preparing to make a leeway to the door, I stopped in my tracks, just registering the fact that I hadn't yet asked for the chocolatier's name.

"I didn't get your name, actually," I spoke with slightly pursed lips and a raised eyebrow -- an eccentric expression, to say the least.

The redhead's eyes glimmered as they regarded me once, twice, then a third time, with more amusement and admiration in them than the last. I watched as his thin lips moved to spell out a single word that would leave me breathless yet again.

"Tendou." The tension washed away from my face as my eyes were blown wide and my heart fluttered. My fingers curled as I felt my cheeks flush in delight, the tips of my ears practically glowing a faint pink. I could've jumped up and crashed through the roof at how giddy I was at that moment. Oh, the majesty of being able to discover something about someone that intrigues you so. My breaths grew short and my feet felt as light as feathers as I recognized the familiar waltzing tune come back once more. Delicate harmonies between the violin and piano illustrated a coy mood, to which I decided would be a nice note to end on.

Gracefully yet hurriedly making my way to the door, I cracked it open and turned around to face the chocolatier for the final time that night. As my gaze met his, I knew he expected some kind of farewell, though he didn't look one bit disappointed — it was an atypical riposte for an ordinary person, but it seemed like something of the norm for a man such as him.

The thought enthralled me so much I couldn't help but crack a smile as finally bid him adieu, disappearing into the night after saying my goodbyes.

"You can call me (Y/N). I'll see you around, Tendou."


	6. Strawberry Delight

It was the next morning in which I chose to do some weekend shopping -- a person couldn't survive off of a couple of small potatoes for the next week, after all.

When heading towards the farmer's market, I noticed from a distance how unusually busy it was for eight in the morning, with almost a hundred Parisians going in and out of the space, all working like busy bees to navigate around the hive that was the tens of rows of white tents. A mess of accented vowels and consonants rang out from the space, simulating a loud buzzing noise. Sucking in a breath, I could only hope that the loudness would die down, and that fresh produce was still available by the time I arrived. 

Upon appearing at the scene, I walked around for a bit after realizing that in the eye of storm, it wasn't as hectic as I imagined. Looking at the fruit and vegetable stalls, I picked out the items I needed in order to sustain myself for the week, until the market popped back up again the next Sunday. 

_Just need some flour, then I think we're done._

After grabbing a four-pound bag of the stuff, I paid for my groceries and hauled all of them in my arms, prepared to make my way back home. Weaving through the crowd, I skillfully avoided stepping on peoples' feet and tried to not bump into them, to which I succeeded at to a certain extent until I forgot to look down and tripping over someone's outstretched foot. 

As I fell, I noticed a figure directly in front of me wearing a long pattern coat -- the type of outfit that was sensible to adorn on a chilly morning such as this. Choking out my last prayers any entity out there who would save me from mortal embarrassment, I crashed headfirst into the character just ahead.

When I felt the powdery texture of flour on my hands, my breath hitched and I pressed my lips tightly together, silently cursing at myself. Who would be so moronic as to not make sure a considerable amount of flour wasn't secured? God, this wasn't how I wanted to start my day.

Feeling the beginnings of tears start to pool in my eyes, I immediately got up and opened my mouth to apologize, but stopped once my pupils fell on the face of the person I rammed into.

"Well I wasn't expecting to see you so soon," the familiar chocolatier mused, his eyebrows raised, "In a predicament like this, no less." My eyes scanned the scene behind Tendou, where I found his groceries all split and ruined. Giving small sighs of despair, I felt so utterly helpless. The redhead noticed how desolate my expression was and frowned for a moment, visibly upset, but hopped up and started to gather the wreck I caused, shoving it into a single brown paper bag, and disposed of it in a nearby trash can, leaving the space relatively clean once again.

He then turned his head around, taking notice of the small crowd that was forming and bend down to haul me up. I felt his hand wrap around my wrist and pull me up, then tugged my arm towards the direction he wanted to go. 

"Better get away from this crowd," he said softly, his irises bemusedly regarding me, "Don't want the attention to be overbearing." As I ran along with him with what I could salvage from my own semi-wrecked groceries, I couldn't help but notice how firmly yet tenderly he held my hand in his own. 

__

When we were properly situated at a small intersection with no swarms of people, I got the chance to talk without being overcome by pressure. As my breath steadied and the nerves subsided, I could finally talk without feeling like something was choking me, thus preventing all the words I wanted to say from tumbling out. 

"Sorry for crashing into you like that," I said, awkwardly laughing at an attempt to ease the tension, "I wasn't looking aware that there was something to trip over." 

"I mean at least I wasn't a complete stranger -- that would've been worse." Tendou spoke with a gladdened tone, almost as if he was trying to comfort me. "Did you know I was going to be there?" At the question, I immediately started to shake my head, denying any possibility of the inquiry being true. Feeling squeamish at the sudden silence that overtook us, I tried to fill the gap by rambling along, spewing out what seemed like nonsense.

"Honestly, I didn't expect to bump into you, of all people," I mumbled, fiddling with the hem of my sleeve, "N-Not that I mean it in a bad way, of course, I just think it would've been... less embarrassing if it weren't you." Immediately regretting that I'd said anything, I hung my head and pressed my lips tightly together to prevent anything else from coming out. I wouldn't dare stare at him, less I wanted for my soul to separate from my body and float up to whatever nirvana there was to reside in. But when the redhead spoke, I felt like dying on the spot. 

Tendou just laughed heartily as he took off his coat and dusted his shirt off, flurries of flour coming off of the fabric with every stroke of his fingers.

"Oh?" he chuckled, brushing some more flour off his sleeve, "Did you happen to think that I was at the chocolate shop?" My face grew rosy when I realized he was under the impression that I was just as idiotic as I feared. In a hurry to explain myself, I didn't even think about what specific words to say -- I just blurted out whatever was on my mind.

"No, not at all! I just- I wasn't expecting you," I admitted, "Not so soon, at least." Biting my bottom lip in regret, I took a mental note to never speak again without thinking. 

After Tendou swatted his jacket a couple more times to get rid of the white patches, he turned his attention to me. 

"We all have lives, you know?" he said playfully, casting a small smile in my direction, "But I can understand where you're coming from." Flustered, I could only muster a forced grin at his empathetic approach to the situation, the sign of happiness somehow brightening my beet-colored complexion even more. 

The atmosphere rested at a point of quietude for a few moments before I piped up again, feeling all too guilty about the unfortunate predicament.

"Is there any way I can repay you for your groceries?" I asked, "Since I ruined them, it's only fair that I do something for you." 

Tendou thought for a moment, and I watched him with curious eyes. I noticed he quirked his eyebrows ever so slightly when he'd file through the potential solutions to our problem. Once he decided on a quick fix, his gaze slid to settle on me, profiling my expression in an amused manner.

"How about you treat me to a nice dinner in exchange for spilling my groceries?" he offered, a sly smile beginning to surface on his lips, "We can call it even then." My eyes widened to the size of dinner plates at the suggestion. Never in my life had I expected for anyone to be so daring -- to a stranger, no less. His actions were bold, and what intrigued me even more was the fact that he didn't seem to care. Every movement and gesture seemed so spontaneous, but he didn't give a second thought to anything. 

"Also-"

Oh, but what a charming figure he was. 

"-I don't think you'll have to be lonely anymore." 

The edges of my lips were tugged upwards by an invisible, intruding force. A slight chuckle rose from the back of my throat, followed by a delighted sputter. Soon, I was giggling with pinkish cheeks and the biggest smile on my face. All the pent-up butterflies were let loose in my stomach, making my insides squirm, but it felt strangely gratifying at the same time. The insects' effervescent wings could've brought me to Cloud Nine, but I stayed grounded, afraid that I would overreact to such a simple proposition.

I looked up at Tendou, who stood expectantly with an endearing grin, though looking a bit more reticent than before. Taking a deep breath in to calm myself, I clasped my hands together and looked into his eyes, locking my gaze with his. 

It was my turn to speak now.

"I'd love to spend the evening with you."


	7. Vanilla Melody

Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I flattened down the front and back of my outfit and fixed my hair. Looking presentable was the best way to go, though I didn't know if being dressed up was the best move. I hummed, profiling what I was wearing and tried to think of other opinions in case I came up with just one bad thing about the outfit. So far, the only thing I noticed was that it brought out my best features, which I thought was nice.

I stuck with it.

On my way down to my apartment's lobby, I still had second-thoughts about the context of this meeting with Tendou. Though I still wasn't sure whether this counted as a date or not, I played it safe by wearing a semi-formal outfit, but I was reluctant in showing up in this attire.

"We should have talked about it more," I groaned quietly, pressing a hand to my head in worry, "What if he had a completely different idea than I did?" In the midst of my troubled thinking, I felt a buzz come from my phone. Taking it out, I found that Tendou had messaged me:

_I'm here!_

I was now hurrying down the stairs, hoping to meet him as soon as possible without ruining my appearance too badly. A slight breeze blew against my skin as I neared the entrance, already feeling the coldness of the evening start to seep into the room. The balls of my feet tapped against the floor as I finally pushed myself to fling open the door and find Tendou, standing there, dressed in black dress pants and a white dress shirt, holding a bouquet of lavender and gypsophilia. 

_Turns out I wasn't overdressed after all._

After we just stared at each other for a couple of moments, I found the courage to speak, though the words came out in stammers.

"You look-" I cleared my throat and started again after an inconsistency came up, embarrassedly chuckling all the way through. "You look amazing, Tendou." The chocolatier gave a shy laugh and extended his hand with the bouquet in it out to me. My cheeks flared, their beet-red coloration standing out against the delicate backdrop of the cold-colored building.

"You're stunning." There he went, gracing my ears with only two words that took every last letter from my mind and turned them into mush. Flustered and breathless, I could only laugh and thank the redhead for such kind compliments. As I made my way to his side, I found that Tendou had crooked his arm for mine to loop around. Though I didn't expect the sudden gesture, I took it anyway as a means to not disappoint.

When he leaned in closer, I could get whiffs of Madagascar vanilla from his collar. It was a pleasant but not overpoweringly sweet scent that reminded me of the very chocolate shop that we first met at. The scent refreshed my olfactory, bringing a clarity and sharpness to the sense. 

But in being more than "humble," I noticed how much I was enjoying myself, as compared to Tendou, who this dinner was for. I couldn't help but just say my mind, realizing too late that I thought this was a bit much, considering that I wasn't showing the proper manners as a host. 

"I thought I was the one who was repaying you," I said, fretfully accepting the bunches of sweet-smelling flowers Tedou offered, "You didn't have to do all of this, you know." The redhead set his opposite on my forearm and patted it two times, reassuring me that there was nothing to worry about.

"It's the first time I've ever done something like this, so I wanted to make it special." His eyes were creased and radiating warmth as they floated to settle upon me. I noticed how he kept his hand resting on my arm as we continued to walk. 

"That's so sweet," I then replied, tightening my grip on the chocolatier's arm, "Pun intended."

__

When we arrived at the dining establishment, our coats were taken by waiters and we were led to a small booth on the outside patio, where only a few others were. I booked this specific table so Tendou and I could spend some time getting to know each other without being interrupted too frequently. As I sat down in one of the cushioned chairs, my eyes were drawn to the strings of fairy lights that were delicately strung above, their faint glow just barely illuminating the space so that the sky's magnificence was amplified. Parisians and tourists alike were finally able to see the beauty held within the cosmos without artificial light from street lamps shading it.

Tendou must've noticed the change in my expression, as he said nothing and waited patiently in silence until I'd brought my gaze down, back to Earth. It took a few minutes for me to realize that the chocolatier hadn't spoken a word to me since we arrived, and that a slight smirk played on his lips as he bemusedly observed me and my childlike wonder. Turning red, I quickly pounced on the opportunity to fill the silence with a spontaneous, albeit awkward, question. There was no harm that came from asking, as this date was all about getting to know him, but I felt anxious, somehow. 

Maybe it was because of the way his eyes bore into mine — how genuinely they sparked and reflected emotion, like perfectly imperfect rubies. 

We ordered our food shortly after, and continued to talk, describing our day-to-day lives and interesting experiences we've gotten to live through. Turns out, Tendou was originally from Japan, and during his high school years, was on a nationally-ranked team for volleyball. He showed me pictures of his old self, which I found particularly endearing. With wild hair and vivid eyes, I could see why he was an intimidating blocker, but I never would have guessed it based on his persona now.

The redhead told me about his friend Ushijima, who was preparing for his debut on Japan's National Team. Awestruck, I commended the feat and wished the volleyball player the best of luck in his match, hoping that Japan would take the win from Argentina. Tendou laughed at my reaction, then happily nodded the agreement, saying that, he too, would "love for Wakatoshi to take home a victory, like old times."

When our food arrived, my date had just finished explaining how volleyball works to me — a topic that I'd suddenly become interested in, for "reasons unknown." Deciding that it was best that we drop the hefty chatter for a moment and take the time to eat, I dug unto my dish, joyfully relishing in the delicious flavors of classic French cuisine. It was savory, with hints of citron and light but heavily scented spices — the taste of Paris, of passion and home.

It complimented the mood and setting so perfectly.

Though as much as I grew to appreciate the scene, halfway through, I found Tendou taking the smallest bites of his coq au vin, seemingly distressed about something. I set my fork down with a frown, tugging on the sleeve of his dress shirt to get his attention.

"Hey, something wrong?" I asked, worried that he didn't like any of this, "Is the food bad?" Tendou whipped his head up and shook it rapidly, startled by my question.

"No! No, of course not!" he rambled, "I just don't usually have that big of an appetite." My frown got deeper, as I reckoned it was already past seven, and I didn't think he had anything since lunch, which was at noon.

"Is something bothering you?" I questioned softly, my expression becoming more and more gentle as the seconds passed, "You can tell me, you know." He looked reluctant at first, hesitating to even speak — a drastic change in personality from the man I'd met at shop and the market. 

"From jitters, I guess," Tendou admitted, a pale pink dust covering his cheeks, "I was actually pretty nervous for this. Spent at least an hour trying to find the right outfit and cologne and picked up the flowers just before I got to your place." My heart squeezed and my insides felt like they were about to erupt into multicolored confetti. Clasping the redhead's hands, my mouth split into a wide smile as I squeezed his palms affectionately. 

"Oh, Tendou," I laughed, "You're not alone. God, I spent hours fixing myself so that I'd look presentable." His eyes drifted over to me, looking at my outfit and hair, as if he was redefining his definition of "presentable" right then and there. I gave a chuckle and jabbed a finger towards the door, redirecting his attention from me to the exit.

"Why don't I get the bill and we can get out of here?" I whispered, winking at the chocolatier, "Sound good?" He gave a small grin, then nodded at me, a bright gleam igniting in his iris once more. I exhaled in relief as I let go of his hands and called for the check. 

Out of all the characters I've met in my life, the way Tendou acted and thought was rather peculiar, but I couldn't say I hated it — it was charming in its own way.

__

Soon, we were out of the restaurant and meandering about the semi-empty streets of Paris in a relaxed manner. Tendou seemed more bubbly, chattering nonstop as we walked together, going on and on about how though he never really thought of being a chocolatier, he'd always had the dream of doing something unexpected. I just listened contentedly, taking in the loveliness of the environment and wishing that it'd never cease.

Being around him made me feel at ease. When I looked at him, he seemed so fearless and positive, like there was nothing in the world that would thwart him and his abilities. And I certainly couldn't deny the appeal of not being alone again, thanks to him. 

When I felt the chocolatier's arm slip around my waist, a gentle tune started in the breeze that passed. Small, soft notes rang out like smooth velvet, coaxing us to follow the piece, to find it for ourselves if we wanted to hear more. After the delicate overture, the opening theme crashed down with a howl. 

What passion, what ardor stirred inside my heart! The sweet release of music, the blinding sounds of joy begged me to dance with the beat, inviting those willing to celebrate to the middle of the ballroom to waltz until the soles of their shoes grew holes. The moon above glowed jubilantly, and the navy sky stretched its arms to capture all the starshine dotted across the dark background. 

But why did I digress? I stepped forwards, but couldn't bring myself to move. I'd go off alone, like I always did. No matter how euphoric this pleasure was, I didn't know if it would ever satisfy my need for another, real being. 

In a rut, I turned to Tendou instinctively, as it to search for some kind of guidance, but only found that he was staring right at me. 

Our eyes met, then I grew breathless. I couldn't say anything -- I could only look as the world stopped. There was the air of brevity lingering upon the scene, but only for a moment, I'd gotten lost in his gaze. 

Then I closed my eyes, and his lips were on mine. 

Suddenly everything was right in the world. 

I felt the loving grip of his arms against my waist, holding me close and dear, pulling me into him as if he never wanted to let go. Carnations bloomed in my chest and sprouted in my mind, the petals tickling the finer organs, making me feel squeamish, but content nevertheless. 

We broke apart soon after, both of us a blushing mess after the lip-lock, but we laughed our nerves off. The atmosphere was lively and warm, reflected in the deepest pools of dark red that were Tendou's irises. Looking fondly at him, I realized that there was no need for words to know how _he_ felt about _me_. 

I was wanted. 

I was safe.

After what seemed like eons, Tendou spoke in a hushed tone, his breath fanning against my lips. 

"Can you hear the music too?" he whispered, clasping my hand in his. It took my by surprise, as I gasped and stood there for a second. My eyes then widened and glossed over as I nodded rapidly, feeling my heartbeat quicken and my vision blur. The harmony of the violin and piano came together once more, a crescendo filling up the maximum capacity my ears could hold with ease. Dynamic keys resounded, lining the skies with streaks of silver and gold, sprinkles of diamonds showering down upon us as we lived.

No, not lived -- as we enjoyed. Enjoyed each others' presence, enjoyed with shimmer that seemed to be present in both of our gazes, and the potent essence of adoration that hung in the air. 

We both seemed to be drunk on happiness as our lips met again underneath the moonlight, the stars singing their secrets in the form of one harmonious melody.


	8. Alien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is complicated.

**SOUNDTRACK:**

_LONELIEST GIRL ; CAROLE AND TUESDAY_

_THE NAME OF LIFE (INSTRUMENTAL) ; JOE HISAISHI_

____

Listen to the instrumental during flashbacks.


	9. Black Hole

"Where's (Y/N)?" 

Tooru Oikawa was confused. (Y/N), who was always punctual and rarely missed work, had disappeared today. The brunette frowned and tried to dial their number, only to find that he went straight to voicemail. Even more puzzled, he set his phone down and started to think — the (Y/N) he knew never left anyone hanging. In fact, he didn't remember the last time they pulled something like this.

Perhaps their phone was out of battery, but he knew it was highly unlikely. 

After pondering about the subject for a while, Oikawa's anxiety got the best of him, so he decided to ask an outside party. It took him a couple minutes to find someone, weaving throughout the whole training facility, but when he did, he pounced at the opportunity, desperate to know where the dear assistant coach went.

"Nicolas, where's (Y/N)?" Spooked by the sudden intrusion, the Argentinian jumped at the sound of his teammate's voice, quickly turning around to face him. Relief flooded his features as he recognized his familiar, but that stopped as soon as he noticed how upset the setter seemed. A small frown took the place of the otherwise pleasant expression Lazo usually had on as he recollected his memories from the morning.

"They called in sick, apparently," the wing spiker replied, quirking a brow at an attempt to remember, "Though I don't really believe that. Coach said their voice was really hoarse, so maybe there's a bug?" Tooru exchanged glances with the other volleyball player, his eyebrows raised, skeptical of the excuse. Nicolas had on a similar mien, his lips flattened and pressed together in a thin line.

"I'm just worried for them. Do you think something bad happened?" The brunette started to get jittery, the tips of his fingers rubbing together in circles as he stared at the ground. Nicolas placed a hand on Oikawa's shoulder, attempting to quell his sudden surge of apprehension.

"I understand what you're feeling -- (Y/N) is really important to all of us, and I wouldn't want something horrible to come their way. Let's practice to get your mind off it for now. If you think something really went down, I'm sure Coach will be lenient and let you go." 

Though as hesitant as Tooru was to drop the topic, the only thing he could do was nod and go to the courts, awaiting the usual drills and matches. 

__

It's funny how the world works. In the past, we were blessed with boons and had the aspirations of gods. We dreamed of holding the stars in our palms and blowing them away like dandelion seeds, so they'd scatter across the Milky Way in such a fashion that we would sigh dreamily while our galaxy spun and formed itself. The whole world was accessible at our fingertips, and when you held me it felt as if my scapula had sprouted wings. 

Oh, but how the mighty lord of the cosmos tumble from their throne, from a blatant realization that in this desolate world, there is no solstice, there is no nirvana. There is no space to behold, there is no shroud of fog we can hide behind as the jeers from jesters reach our ears and pummel rotten tomatoes at our pride. 

When you left, there was nothing I could confide in. 

There was nothing really left of me, even.

As I buried my head underneath my covers and sobbed just a little bit more, I could only shiver and curl myself up into a little ball of misery while bathing in my own sadness. The air underneath my blanket was hot, stuffy, but drowned out the coldness that spread through my limbs and helped me ignore the bleariness of my eyes and my dreary stupor. My tongue melted in the sweltering heat, so that only disgruntled cries could come out of my mouth, and nothing more.

Was I merely this wax figurine, or a pair of wings taken for granted by Icarus? Perhaps I was overthinking, but I digress. What I felt now was only the aftershock of the original pain and devastation that befell me the moment I uncovered the thing that made me like this. As I pulled my knees to my chest, heavy breaths came out of my mouth in pants as an attempt to not hyperventilate at the memory.

I'd never be able to forget the shameless look on his face when I caught him with another. That curl of his lip, the piercing yet dull stare he gave me as he ushered his lover out of the room, as if the whole situation was my fault. I could only reminisce, as I had said nothing in the moment, just staring at the whore and his affair. My integrity was made a laughing stock, and I was the clown in a room devoid of elephants. 

As much as I wanted to speak, I couldn't, as I was sure that my ex-lover wanted to spite me and elicit a tantalizing response out of my broken state. It was twisted, yes, but what could I expect out of a manipulator?

In the midst of my thinking, I realized that the temperature underneath the covers grew a bit high, to the point of not being comfortable any more. Noticing my external warmth, I put my palm to my arm and noted the sensation. I was hot to the touch, so that anyone who laid even a finger on the surface would pull away with a angry, red, swollen welt on their skin. Grumbling just the slightest bit, I slipped my head out of the sheets and looked around, squinted my eyes at the rosy sunlight peeking through the blinds. 

Deciding that enough was enough, and that I wanted to stop burning and melting, I begrudgingly pulled the blanket off of myself and got out of bed, making my way towards the kitchen for something to eat. While trudging and dragging my feet across the floor, I realized that I hadn't really given a second thought about anything else besides the breakup today.

Which included my job, as I noticed when I opened my phone to an onslaught of messages from Tooru. Sighing, I browsed through the missed calls and unread texts while grabbing something to eat for myself. I was in the middle of chewing through some biscuits when I saw the last and final text from the setter:

_I'm coming over at 7. Please be okay._

My eyes widened when the doorbell rang. I whipped my head to turn and look at the time, internally groaning at the sight of the hands reading the exact number I feared they would read. Setting the biscuits down and creeping towards the door, I looked out the small peephole and found the one and only Oikawa standing outside, carrying a bag filled with mystery boxes. 

_This is so cliche._

Hesitating to open the door, my hand hovered over the handle before dropping by my side, unwilling to twist the lock open and reveal myself to the volleyball player. Hearing Tooru's knuckles rap against wood in such a close proximity made me heart jump in anxiety. I was scared of him seeing me like this, but what time did I have to fix myself up? A day spent crying wasn't going to disappear from my face in a couple of minutes.

"(Y/N), I know you're in there. I'm going to wait here all night if you don't let me in." Grimacing, I finally forced my arm to pull open the door, thus bringing me to stand directly in front of the brunette. My eyes squeezed shut and I faced the floor as I felt an awkward silence take over the atmosphere. 

It was suffocating, almost, how tense things seemed between us. Oikawa started the conversation out on a limb, hoping that I would respond normally.

"How've you been? You didn't come in today," he said, carefully wording his phrases as to not startle or guilt-trip me, "I was worried something happened. Nicolas told me you were sick, so I brought some food over." Wincing at the mention of my obvious lie, I could only nod in response and feign a cough as I parted from the door's entrance to let him in. 

But Tooru stayed in his place.

"Can I see you?" The question caught me off-guard. It was like we were talking over the phone, but we were in front of each other. It was confusing, but I knew what he meant. There was so much more emotion hidden underneath my facade, but I didn't want to come to terms with that. So with my eyes averted from his stare and my hands hanging loosely by my sides, I just kept forging my own excuses.

"I don't understand what you mean," I said groggily, "I'm here, you're here. You're seeing me already." Oikawa sighed and set down his bag, his gaze bearing two holes into the top of my skull as I kept my head dipped down, and my eyes out of his view. 

Suddenly, his hands cupped the sides of my face, gingerly lifting my head up so that I could properly face him. My conscience protested and struggled against the impeding feeling of dread and doom, but somehow, I couldn't do anything. I flinched at his actions, but didn't stop him. 

It was inevitable. 

Soon my half-lidded eyes focused on his features, and that was all I could see. I wrapped my fingers around his wrists, trying to pry off his hands with an imaginary strength, but kept failing and failing. Giving a small cry, I saw my vision blur and felt hot tears flow down my cheeks, leaving glistening paths of sorrow in their wake. They dripped down onto Tooru's thumbs, staining his skin and wetting his palms. 

As Oikawa finally stepped in to embrace me, I heard the door softly close behind him, and I was left with the sound of his heartbeat. I immediately buried my face into his shoulder and sobbed, muffled wails filling the moment with such despondency. The brunette drew me in, his palm pushed against the back of my head and an arm wrapped around my waist as he hugged me ever so dearly. 

"It's going to be alright. I'm here now."


	10. Pluto

I imagined that there wasn't a time other than this where I felt so distant from everyone around me. Wherever I looked, I could only see space -- this darkness, where I never felt any other being. My fingers grasped at the blindness, but came away with nothing in their hold. Perhaps I was searching for something in particular, though I never knew what. Was I looking for a missing piece to my feeling of completion? Maybe even my sense of self had disappeared, leaving me confused and unaware of what mental state I needed to bring myself to. 

I was trapped in a mental loop, to put it simply. It was as if I was lost in a grove — one that had interconnected paths, so no matter where I traveled, I would always end up back at that starting point, lost and inarticulate. My self confidence had broken down so much that I couldn't help but feel this way. When I stared at my own hands, I flexed my fingers and fought the urge to cry. 

How perfectly his had fit in mine.

I flinched at another reoccurring memory and set my hand palm-down on my lap.

But how banal his eyes were when he gazed at me. 

Groaning, I just shook my head and pulled the collar of my shirt up to the bridge of my nose and started to ponder about what blessings my previous relationship had brought. Was there anything to behold when I thought I felt the most happy? 

The thought lingered for a moment, and I could produce recollections of every time I spent with my significant other. They were the happy stages, where my face was full of smiles, my heart was light and fluttering, and my cheeks were red, flushed with absolute enjoyment. Yet, along with those blissful remembrances, I could almost see the indifferent grimace plastered onto my ex-lover's face that plagued every waking minute. It was a crude expression, one that shouted his feelings of distaste obnoxiously loud, but I'd never unplugged my ears to hear them, until now.

He hated every minute spent with me.

Why had I realized this just now? Was I just so oblivious to the fact that he never really enjoyed spending time with me? As the mood of despondency settled over my soul, I finally came to know the reason behind why I forced myself to push aside all of his vileness.

Love.

The senseless regard I held for him, and the one that he never took up on me. Delusion because of this god-awful sentiment had ravaged my rationality, leaving me as a lovesick fool to tend to my own affection, blindly nursing it on my own even though it was a job for the opposite party. Things had always been this way, but I was too invested in our relationship to care. And as much as I repressed my emotions, they'd always come back to haunt me. 

I was lucky if I could even will myself to love another the way I loved him.

Wiping a tear from my face and laughing at myself in my idiocy, I simply shook my head and tried to diverge from the topic.

_Why are you thinking such mundane thoughts? It's over._

A shaky gasp stuttered out of my chest, bleeding all the woes and sorrows that I felt at the phrase. Burying my face in my hands, I sobbed and felt pools of hot tears trickle down the crevices between my fingers, sliding down to stain the cuffs of my hoodie.

_It's over._

____

My blue fingers were clutched around a mug of steaming tea, graciously accepting the heat provided by the beverage. At the touch, my skin was cold and felt dull -- almost as if it had been stripped of nutrients for years on end. As a certain brunette maneuvered around me, setting up blankets and bringing food to eat while we watched a movie, I mindlessly stared at the wall, spacing out at the lack of things to pay attention to.

I already insisted to help, but Oikawa just gave me a frown and told me that he'd take care of everything. Half an hour passed since then, and we were almost ready to start our evening of relaxation. Once the last bowl of soup was sat on the coffee table, Tooru plopped down next to me, sighing as his body went limp, the tension easing out of his muscles. 

"You alright, (Y/N)?" he asked, turning his head towards me, "Need anything else?" I shook my head and gave an appreciative smile, sipping some tea while I was at it. The volleyball player looked relieved as he turned on the television with the press of a button. Sorting through the various flicks I had downloaded, he chose one that we watched often, and pressed play.

Throughout the movie, I found myself becoming distracted by the flashing of colors on the bright screen, an element of my surrounding that diverted my attention away from the topic of my long-gone lover, and focused it towards one of my favorite flicks. 

After two hours, the movie had ended, and I was left feeling calmer than before. Taking a glance at Oikawa, I found that he had somewhat of a serene expression lacing his features. His brows were lowered and his eyes were half-lidded, contentedly staring at the ending credits. He looked satisfied, somehow -- and it was only odd because I couldn't decipher the reason as to why he seemed that way. 

Perhaps it was my curiosity, but I felt a tug that brought me close enough to him in order to tap his shoulder and ask him if he enjoyed the film. The edges of his lips tugged upwards and he nodded, those hazelnut eyes sparkling as the glow of the television screen bounced off of them. But despite his calm demeanor, I noticed this gloss over his chocolate irises. 

"Are you happy?" they seemed to ask, "Are you distracted enough to feel at ease?" Letting a small breath out, I averted my gaze for a moment just to think. 

Was I shallow for leaving my emotions behind so quickly? I couldn't help but feel that the end of this relationship was my fault, but I knew better than to believe that. But I digressed from the negativity and moved onto something new. My mind started to wander towards the happenings of this evening.

When I looked down at my hands, I was pleased to see that they weren't shaking anymore. I traced my face with light fingers and felt that my cheeks were dry, and my eyebrows unfurrowed. When I realized that my chest stopped aching and that my mind was clear, I felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble up inside my stomach.

I think I was okay.

I was okay.

My vision blurred as I raised my head, and locked eyes with Tooru.

As soon I looked at him, the Sun, he smiled back and enveloped me in warmth, his smooth skin brushing against mine in affection. My chin rested upon his shoulder as his arms pulled me closer, his heart touching mine with such delicate care. His hands rested against my rhomboids, fingers curled, gently digging into my back in a manner that notioned that he'd been waiting for this for forever. 

Failing to properly see through a wall of tears, I blinked to release them -- to free myself. 

And when I did, the whole world opened up in a new light.

Behind him, I could see a velvet sky peeking through the blinds I'd forgotten to close. Pink and orange light dusted everything under it, and created an imaginary warmth that spread through my fragile state of mind. But when I closed my eyes, the rosy horizon disappeared, and I could only feel the soft rumble that coursed through Tooru's chest as he spoke the psalms of a kind man. 

A haziness settled over my mind as I looked up at him and smiled, my eyelids fluttering open. He stopped speaking for just a second to stare adoringly at me, the whole universe in his irises, then placed a hand on my head and uttered a proposition:

"Let's go to the beach."

Once again, his irresistible gleam drew me closer until I submitted to the gravity of the situation, my conscience bound by the pull of the Milky Way.


	11. Mars

We were soon on the bays of the Atlantic Ocean, strolling across the beach with the pink horizon in the distance. There was this wistfulness that hung in the air, though I couldn't say for sure that it was because of our conversation before, or just the mood of it all. My eyes sparkled as they came to rest upon the sight of glittery water and calm waves lapping at the shore continuously, leaving small fragments of shells in their wake. While I eyed the shoreline, I didn't notice how Tooru glanced at me every so often to profile my expression and somehow decipher what I was feeling.

But his attempts were in vain. As we traversed the cove, my features remained as they were, unmoving and still. The only thing that hinted at the suggestion that I was capable of living was the rosiness that spread across my cheeks and the bridge of my nose. However, no matter how untelling my face may have been, it still was a strained effort to keep everything still. Oikawa must've noticed that, as he just left me alone and kept walking by my side, listening to and observing the ocean.

A part of me was glad that he realized that I wasn't in the best mindset to talk to, but another also yearned to hear the sweet melody that was his voice. Tugging my bottom lip between my teeth, I gave a soft sigh, drawing Tooru's attention close, but did nothing else after. When he became disinterested, my head emptied and I was left with the same pining desire to be able to garner his recognition again. As I wrung my hands together, I took a deep breath in and slipped into my subconscious, hoping that reminiscing better times would quell my emotions.

__

As a kid, I never really knew what I wanted to do when I grew up. Nothing seemed to align perfectly with my interests (if I even had any), or jump out at me as the ideal way to spend the rest of my life. Maybe I was just scared to commit, frightened by the possibility that what I chose would be something that I hated in the future.

This vicious cycle continued on for years on end, plaguing every moment of high school and university with the pressure of failure, or disappointment. Up until the moment I had to choose, I was uncertain, disbelieving of myself and my decisions.

During senior year, when I was forced to make a decision, I went for a safe option, still afraid that it'd be something I regretted. As a volleyball player in high school, the possibility of being in the industry had piqued my interest more than other occupations, so I tried my hand at it. It wasn't a particularly strenuous job, so I enjoyed it for the most part, fortunately. Being able to surround myself with such talented and welcoming players, as well as fellow colleagues, really did make my life just a little bit easier. Of course, the sport never truly made me more happy, and never did it bring tons of excitement into my life -- it was cool, and I could survive, and that's all that mattered. 

But it wasn't until he came that suddenly, something snapped within me, and out emerged this burning passion from the cocoon of lifelessness. 

"Everyone, this is Tooru Oikawa. He moved from Japan and is now going to be playing with us as a setter." The moment I laid eyes on him I could tell I was going to be absolutely infatuated. He had the presence of a monarch -- dignified, methodical, commanding. His brown eyes gleamed like amber as they scanned the room, addressing every single player with one message, one promise:

_I'm going to change your life._

The awestruck moment was completely shattered, however, when the brunette opened his mouth and said his opening lines. Every Argentinian inside that room bit their tongue to keep themselves from laughing. He spoke with such horrible, accented Spanish that I heard a few coughs from around the room, attempting to disguise laughter but never really succeeding.

But despite the embarrassment, Tooru Oikawa stood tall. 

And at that moment, I realized he was the one who would turn my world upside down.

__

Months had passed since Tooru joined, and I'd gotten to know him better. We'd often talk about his life in Japan, how schooling was, and the friends he'd made over the course of his high school years. It was interesting how different his life was from mine. 

He was so confident. Possibly even obnoxiously so, to some. He knew what he wanted to do and commanded the task at will to be complete with the utmost precision. I admired that aspect of him -- after all, it was a trait that I couldn't even dream of obtaining. When our conversation drifted to the topic of volleyball, I realized that I'd never asked Oikawa about his team, and what competitions they participated in. For him to come to the San Juan team so suddenly only meant that his skill must've been derived from one of the best crop in Japan.

"Say, Tooru, have you ever gone to nationals in Japan?"

I realized a long while ago that he was a more than competent setter. I'd seen him in action and saw this gloss of determination come over his irises every time his fingers were on the ball. He was so passionate, so driven, so-

"Oh, we never made it."

My thoughts ceased almost immediately, replaced with the straining feeling of regret. I wanted to say sorry, or something to try and fix the negative feelings that had been brought up so suddenly, but there was something in Oikawa's eyes that pleaded for me to not bother the story any longer. Though he sat up straight and tried to maintain this strong facade, I'd already known that he was hiding. 

Despite his stature, his eyes reflected the emotions of a young boy. 

A child, who'd left Japan with crushed dreams and a torn spirit, desperate to start anew, without the emotional baggage. But perhaps I was wrong. He could've left Japan for a number of reasons. Maybe family, university, work, leisure, anything really. But I think he knew that I knew the truth. I wasn't a perceptive type most of the time, but there was something so familiar and so sad about those eyes.

As I continued to wonder, Tooru started to shift in his seat. With a wide grin, he turned to me and just nodded, then got up and started to walk away with no words exchanged. It was awkward, but there was no need to say goodbye -- the conversation had already ended the moment I asked him that goddamn question. 

Clasping my cheeks in my hands, I sighed and tried to erase that memory of his irises from my mind. He was faking that smile, I just knew it.

More than anything, he wished for one victory of his own. 

God, but how it tormented him to think how selfish he was, how demanding of a person he could be in what he expected from others. He practiced day and night for hours on end, trying to reach perfection but never attaining it -- there was always someone above, so naturally leaping towards the goal he had worked towards his whole life. Some prodigal genius had overshadowed all his effort, all his sweat and blood that he shed, that dripped onto the court. 

As my heart ached and this message that laid underneath his mask became more apparent to me, I curled my fingers, digging my nails into the flesh of my cheeks and started to cry.

And at that moment I swore to never let go of him. 

__

My eyes fluttered open as I was pulled back into the present. Tooru was still at my side, strolling with me along the shoreline. I sighed contentedly at the sight, enjoying the comfort of his company.

We walked until the soles of my feet burned, my heels chafing against the smooth rubber of my flip-flops as I took another stride towards the horizon. The sun's rays cast against my figure, warming my body and reddening my cheeks, painting my skin with such a wonderful orange light. Tilting my head up, I started to reminisce about the last time in which I'd felt this at-ease.

Emotion stirred up within my soul, the floodgates of my memory letting loose, showering my conscious with levity and sorrow at the same time.

And even though my eyes were beginning to water, the ocean's breeze swept it away, the sweet saltiness intermingling with the delicate pain of nostalgia I felt both internally and externally, caused my regret to blossom into liberation. Taking a deep breath, I found the courage to smile, then laugh as I turned to Oikawa as if I had just discovered a revelation for my own.

As my hair whipped in the wind and I looked beyond what was left of the calming night, I met Tooru's gaze. His creased eyes and hopeful glint within hazelnut irises reminded me of home, of all that was left of the good in the world. He looked as if he was expecting this to come all along.

The apparent sadness in his stare that I'd ingrained into my memory so long ago was no longer there. All that was left in those eyes was pure, undulating adoration. 

It felt like everything was right again. It felt like my world had finally started to spin on its axis, around the sun and in balance with the constellations.

Taking his hand and squeezing it tight, I gathered up the courage to say the first words of the evening.

"Thank you."


	12. Venus

A year had passed since my breakup, and it was safe to say that I was doing exponentially better than before. I'd more or less forgotten about my scumbag of an ex-boyfriend and started to officially focus more on myself. During this time, I did a lot of thinking about what I really wanted -- it was about time that I stopped being scared of whatever negativity that might come from misjudged decisions. 

I became more open to the people around me and was willing to take the jump at new opportunities, dedicating my time to try out all sorts of new things that I hadn't even begun dreaming of doing before. It helped me expose myself to more activities that could eventually become hobbies, if I had enough fun doing them.

Speaking of new experiences, during the volleyball off-season, the staff and team of San Juan had gone ziplining in Brazil. It was an incredibly scenic and welcoming destination that served as an amazing break away from life in Argentina. Apparently Tooru also met an old friend from high school there. As he went on and on about the orange-haired volleyball player, I listened attentively while staring at a picture they took together. Oikawa regarded the photo with amusement as he sipped on a drink.

"I'm glad Shrimpy could finally grow a few inches," he snickered, "But he's still so unnervingly short -- it's such a mystery to me as to why he wanted to still pursue volleyball. Though I suppose sometimes passion beats physical limits." Curious about who he was, I decided to search on the web, browsing through sites until I'd found a match.

"Shoyo Hinata, right?" The brunette next to me nodded, peering at my phone screen. Quickly sifting through Shoyo's official statistics, my eyes widened bit by bit the further and further down I got. When I reached the end of the page, my jaw had dropped and my eyebrows were raised so much that they almost hit my hairline.

"He's 172 centimeters and can jump higher than 4 feet?" I gawked, "That's amazing!" Tooru laughed a bit at my reaction then nodded with a smug smile on his face. Taking note of this, I questioned whether or not he was showing off the fact that he came to know such an extraordinary player. Perhaps he was ignoring his own talent in the process, but it was endearing nevertheless to see him so haughty.

Though the experience occurred a couple months ago, the memories of the trip still remained fresh in my mind. Currently, I was on my way to a little nook Tooru and I had discovered near the beach. It was a modest cove with damp seaweed lining the floor and medium and large rocks littering the shore. We'd go there every so often to just enjoy the ocean breeze and bask in yellow sunshine, the rays of light warming our bodies and tanning our tender skin.

As I turned a corner at the beach, I found that Oikawa was already waiting for me, his figure sat atop a rock with his legs folded and held close to his chest. His body was highlighted by the sun, casting his features in a pronounced yet gentle manner. From far away I could see his skin glimmer and the outline of his cheekbone, marked features that I always appreciated.

"Tooru!" I called, breaking the moment of observation, "Over here!" He turned to me and waved as I ran up to the rock he was sitting on. Going up to him and hopping on the platform he was on, I shot him a grin and hauled my bag up to display the variety of goods I had brought along with me for the trip. Oikawa excitedly dug into the sandwiches I had made and made an effort to strike up a bit of conversation as payment.

We immersed ourselves in discussion for the majority of the evening, but when it was getting dark, the idle chitchat started to die down as I looked at the time. Oikawa noticed my unhappy expression and opted to cater to my feelings. 

"We can stay until the moon rises, if you'd like." He looked at me coyly, tilting his head just the slightest bit, wiping breadcrumbs off of his cheek. Brightening up a bit, I nodded eagerly as I set down my device and continued to ramble on about various topics.

Eventually, I ran out of energy to keep speaking and just sat, sipping on a drink and eating the food I'd brought. Noticing that Tooru was ogling me out of the corner of my eye, my face flushed and I set down my sandwich on a small napkin, just staring at the water for the time being. Oikawa suddenly broke the silence, his voice piercing the bleak quietness. 

"So you want to stop feeling so worried about what you do all the time?" I turned my head towards the brunette next to me, realizing that he was referring to what I said about my problems earlier. As my cheeks reddened even more, I tried to wave it off, but found that Tooru wasn't too intent on brushing it off just like that. 

He set a hand on my shoulder as the edges of his lips curled upwards. My eyes widened and my heart began to race at the sight of him so close. What was this? What would it lead to? Thoughts coursed through my mind at the speed of light, fixing themselves into the depths of my brain, unrelentingly gnawing at my rationality. 

_I shouldn't do this. Do I want this?-_

Before I could finish thinking, Tooru lifted my chin up and locked gazes with me. As I looked up at him, everything just seemed to wash away. 

"You don't have to think when you're around me, (Y/N)."

My irises pooled with longing, flooding the fleeting feeling of trepidation that filled me up every time I did something. I didn't want to feel scared anymore. I wanted safety, I wanted to own my actions and not have any regrets.

God, I wanted to be impulsive.

I squeezed my eyes shut, cupped Tooru's face with both hands, palms pressing against the brunette's warming cheeks, and smushed my lips against his. Feeling his fingers wrapping around my wrists, I pushed deeper into the kiss unrelentingly, daring him to stop me. After he drew in a sharp breath, tensed up for a few moments, he managed to breathe out shakily, a stuttering breath of relief pushing air out of his nose. 

His calloused hands slid to rest on the small of my back, a sensation that I relished with the utmost delight. They moved to invite me into his embrace, pulling me to rest against Oikawa's muscular figure. I gasped gently when his fingers started to outline my lower spine, running up and down the framework with surprising precision and skill. Feeling goosebumps arise, I leaned in further towards Tooru's warmth, in hopes that it would quell the stinging, needle-like prickle I experienced all over.

Of course, he received me well. With an arm now tightly wrapped around my waist, the brunette brought his hand to the back of my head and deepened the kiss, the tip of his tongue sliding against mine. A small noise came from the back of my throat as my heart started to beat erratically. When Tooru chuckled at my reaction, his low, velvet voice ringing through my ears, my body heat spiked dramatically, my conscience screaming at me that this wasn't right, but my emotions telling me otherwise.

How badly I wanted to respond with a sultry comment, so that we could take it further, but I knew I'd regret it later. Things would become messy between us if I didn't stop — I didn't want Argentina's setter to think that he was just a rebound.

"Tooru," I whispered, gently grabbing his hand, "Wait." The brunette opened his eyes, staring at me confusedly as he hesitated to break away. It wasn't until I covered his lips with two fingers, that he decided enough was enough. 

"What's wrong, (Y/N)?" he asked softly, retracting his arms, "Did I do something?" Shaking my head, I took in a deep breath and sighed, feeling my knees begin to lock and my palms growing numb. Had I finally done something horrible? Why did I kiss him? This expanding desolation engulfed my rationality, bringing me into a panicked state. I almost couldn't hear what Tooru had to say through my anxiety.

"Hey. Look at me." 

I was expecting the worst.

But as I locked gazes with him, I never saw disappointment, or hatred. Only confusion and the slightest bit of hopefulness. How my heart ached at the sight. I should admit my feelings -- he deserves at least that much. After taking a couple of seconds, I was able to tell the truth out loud to not only him, but to myself as well.

Perhaps I hadn't realized how deeply I'd already fallen for him.

"I-I really like you, Tooru," I mumbled, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, admiring the way it bounced and shone in the dim light, "You... You know that I'm over my ex, right? I don't want you to feel like you're dating someone's leftovers or something." Oikawa tilted his head, gazing into my irises for a moment, trying to decipher what I meant by my words. A few seconds passed before he sighed, pecked my lips, and reached to hold my hands in his.

"I know. You'd never do that to me, (Y/N)," he murmured, kissing my knuckles gingerly, "I trust you, completely." Oikawa gave me a smile, and I returned it with tears in my eyes, my thumb brushing his cheek ever so delicately as I felt his dimples. Laughing when he kissed my palm, I couldn't help but feel the slightest touches of benevolence seeing him fondly gaze at me, his chocolate eyes twinkling in the dim light of the sunset.

I'd always wished for someone to look at me like that — in love, with this feature of rapture about their stare. 

And in Oikawa's eyes, this emotion was all the more inescapable. The fact that I hadn't noticed sooner baffled me. It had taken months to even realize my feelings towards him. 

I suppose he was good at hiding, just as I was. 

But in the moment, where we looked at each other and acknowledged the buildup of emotion, there was this tiny pinprick of truth in Oikawa's irises — something that perplexed and astounded me all the same. 

And this truth was that he loved me. He loved me so, so much.

And I couldn't help but want him. 

My lips met his again as I pressed my chest against his, my arms hanging loosely from his shoulders, fingers playing with the tips of his hair. He pushed back, encircling my figure with strong arms, supporting my back, and showering me with affection. 

I didn't hesitate to kiss him. I never second-guessed myself or had the idea that something negative could come out of this. I was confident. I was bold. I was sure enough of myself that I believed that this was the right decision. No fright or terror submerged my rationality, nor did any voice in my head chide me to steer away from this.

When the thought settled into my conscience, only then did I understand how prominent this was. Feeling tears well up in my eyes, my bottom lip quivered as my grip on Oikawa tightened. He only hugged me closer into his body in response, bringing my figure to rest on his lap. As we continued to kiss underneath an Argentinian evening, I smiled as I could hear the faint sound of cicadas chirping in the grass.

We'd be graced by moonlight soon enough.


	13. Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High school friends reunite under two unconventional positions.

**SOUNDTRACK:**

_THAT I MISS YOU ; VANSIRE_

_HERE COMES A THOUGHT (COVER) ; LYN LAPID_

_LOVE LIKE YOU (COVER) ; LYN LAPID_

____


	14. The Strong

I remember the first time I met him.

I'd forgotten something, a cardigan, perhaps, in the gym and was running to go and get it after school let out. When going into the room to get my item of clothing, I'd neglected the fact that the boy's volleyball team would be practicing there and stumbled across. The interaction didn't play out too smoothly, as everyone's eyes were on me the moment I walked in, but it was at that moment that I got my first glimpse at the topic that would never cease to fascinate me. 

The next day in the newspaper club, I was assigned to do a report on how the Shiratorizawa team performed in the Spring Tournament for volleyball. Knowing that they had been the students I bumped into the day before, I was initially completely against it. How odd would it be to interview the very people you embarrassed yourself in front of? 

When I was told I would be taking the bus with them to the tournament, I almost opted out. But after a lot of consideration and possibly a few bribes of small candies, I agreed to the task that nobody else wanted to do because our school's volleyball team was "too intimidating." No matter how uncomfortable I was, I had to do the report, lest I wanted to face the wrath of the club's President. 

As I boarded the bus and took a seat amongst the crowd of athletes, I silently hoped that everything would go smoothly, and it wouldn't end in absolute disaster. Shiratorizawa was a very proud school that boasted its volleyball team amongst many other achievements -- I couldn't half-ass a report. But hell, I didn't even know what to write about. I had no background in volleyball, was barely acquainted with most of the players, and hadn't even the slightest clue as to who I should interview.

In the midst of my thoughts, I didn't notice that a figure had taken a seat next to me. Only when they tapped my shoulder, then did I realize that I was sat next to Shiratorizawa's ace:

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

With wide eyes, I just stared at him, unsure of what to say or how to introduce myself. He was tall, dark, and handsome -- everything everyone whispered about when roaming through the halls. Averting my eyes as he shifted in his seat, my face bloomed into vermilion and the tips of my ears were flushed pink.

I would be lying if I said I didn't find him attractive. 

But I sighed at the thought and fiddled with my fingers, knowing that even if we were to get close, our relationship dynamic would always be the interviewer and the interviewed because of this chance first meeting. I sighed again and started to space out until I heard Ushijima's voice ring out from behind me.

"You're interviewing us for the newspaper, right?" Startled, I blinked out of the trance I was in and immediately gave him a smile, nodding as I did so. He hummed and considered the idea for a moment, as if he was desperately trying to remember something. After a few moments, he seemed to brighten up and come to the thought he'd been brewing in his head.

"It's (Y/N) (L/N), right?" Caught off-guard, I raised my eyebrows in disbelief and laughed a little, finding it amusing that such a famous figure at my school knew of me.

"Wait, you know who I am?" 

"I read a couple of your articles before. I enjoyed the one about how reforms in our school could impact the faculty and students positively. It's good to see that someone still cares about the conditions we learn in." Finding his response oddly touching, I felt my cheeks get warmer and my heart start to beat faster. Just by this one answer, Wakatoshi had managed to create an comfortable atmosphere. Intentional or not, I appreciated the gesture and went on to ask a few questions, trying to get to know him better.

His replies were blunt and straightforward. And although sometimes they lacked the right amount of emotion, I still found them exceptionally endearing. I'd learned he was a second year, just as I was, and that his favorite food was Hayashi Rice, though I never remembered asking that question. The other information was elementary, in the sense that everybody already knew it, so I didn't bother writing it down. 

It wasn't until I asked the last question did he give me something unexpected, something worth mentioning.

"How well do you think your team is going to fare during the match?" 

The brown-eyed male didn't hesitate before stating his answer, as if his response was already predetermined. 

"We're going to win."

He looked at me with such calmness and such certainty that was so striking, so elusive. My eyes widened and my mouth shut. I was simply so nonplussed at such pride coming out of him. He was bold and blunt, all characteristics of someone who was at the top, but somewhere in my subconscious I think I hoped that the moment was fleeting, that I would never be able to see that expression again. 

Had I been turned off by this character?

Or was it because I didn't believe in his truth?

This idea was such an out-of-the-blue notion that I thought nothing of it at the moment. Awkwardly thanking him for the interview, I turned my face back towards the window so I could finally break away from his gaze.

I imagined that he did the same. 

__

The games that proceeded were undoubtedly life-changing. 

I watched from the bench as Shiratorizawa crushed every single one of their opponents with absolutely zero room for error. As they worked and weaved their way to the final round, I stared at them, awestruck at the magnitude of raw power they exuded. But although each individual player was polished enough to hold their own, their attention seemed to be fixated on Ushijima -- as was mine. 

Through countless points and landslide matches, I watched as Shiratorizawa conquered. Their determined faces were burned into my memory and the guttural screams of hope that they all shouted silently forever echoed in my ears. 

But above all else, I remembered the spike that had shattered me, that shattered the arena and left the floor covered in smoke and broken dreams.

It was Shiratorizawa against Date Tech. 

They were in the second match, and the purple-clad figures were already dominating the scoreboard with 17-12, and had won the first game easily. I was furiously taking notes in my journal, trying to capture the indescribable feelings and slap them onto paper so I could try to recreate the very helpless but oh-so propitious emotion. There was nothing that needed for them to be desperate about their pursuit of victory. There was no need for them to apply all their might in order to obtain the win.

When Ushijima jumped, my head lifted and I never blinked. His arm drew back and his feet lifted off of the ground, thighs clenching and muscles tense. 

Did I know what was about to come?

No.

I dropped my pencil and just watched. 

That resounding boom. His figure, seemingly floating in the air as he delivered the spike effortlessly. He was still in the air as the ball bounced off of the ground, completely missing the opponent's arms. The way he arched his back and prepared his core for the powerful shot made the shivers of anticipation shoot through my body. 

It was almost as if I could feel the his prowess. I could feel the power that surged through him in the form of adrenaline in my bloodstream. Oh, such a splendid feeling. Though as brief as it was, I relished every moment of it with sparkling eyes. A mix of longing and fondness brewed inside my soul, tainting my thoughts with an odd reminiscence. 

It was in this period that I came to a realization. 

We were from two different worlds, him and I. 

He was so powerful, enchanting -- I couldn't peel my eyes away from the sight that was him.

He was perfect. He was the ideal spiker. The devil amongst a team laden with imperfection.

That night I wrote the entire report about the landslide victory that Shiratorizawa had obtained. 

And that night my article was chosen to be featured in Sendai's Volleyball Magazine, which would later go on to star as the centerpiece for their 46th edition. 


	15. The Curious

**_Several Years Later_ **

There was an outburst of commotion as soon as the Schweiden Adlers left the court. Reporters were bustling from left to right, trying to get exclusive shots of the famed players exiting the arena. I was unfortunately sandwiched between two feisty paparazzi and had to endure the uncivil screaming and shoving these two brought to the table.

Groaning and barking out retorts as I felt increasingly uncomfortable, I furrowed my brows and tried to press on, but to no avail. Eventually, I gave up and just walked to the back of the mob, hoping that I'd get in a couple of good shots during the private press meeting.

Sitting down on a bench and looking at my badge to pass the time, I sighed as my thumb smoothed over the image of my headshot and title, bringing my eyes to stare at the laminated card. Suddenly feeling a wave of reminiscence overcome me, a small smile tugged at my lips as I remembered how excited I was to finally be able to come here and interview the team that held so many legends from my high school days.

As I went down the list of players, my cheeks rosied up when Ushijima's face popped into my head. Immediately trying to cool myself down, I noticed that I hadn't realized just how much I missed seeing him, after I went to university. Curling my fingers around my reporter's ID card, I thought about our situation for a while.

Of course, we still kept in touch occasionally, but both of us were pretty busy people, and never got the chance to meet after graduation. I understood, but there was always that one thought that crossed my mind every week or so about how he was doing. When acknowledging my behavior, I then knew that I still loved him. I'd become hopelessly attracted to him during those two years we spent together at school, and foolishly held the same feelings in the present. It was ludicrous, so much so that I didn't at all believe that Wakatoshi reciprocated my affection.

Taking a deep breath and standing up from my seated position on the bench, I made my way towards the press room, clearing all nostalgic thoughts from my head.

I could only await the fateful moment when I'd come face-to-face with my old high school friend.

__

When I arrived at the interviewing quarters, the room was already packed with reporters dying to get the latest scoop on the Schweiden Adlers. Spotting my reservation near the front of the masses of chairs, I silently thanked my company for choosing such a convenient spot. Sliding into my seat, I pulled out a notebook and pen, and uncased my camera from its pouch. Adjusting the lens, I saw the back door open out of the corner of my eye. In knowing that it was probably the team, I quickly finished my business and got ready to shoot.

Sure enough, the Adlers filed in and onto the small stage set up at the front of the room. Hearing dozens of camera flashes behind me, I sighed and shook my head, knowing that the players could've gotten easily irritated from being photographed so early on. Moreover, they were taking pictures at the wrong time -- the best part was yet to come.

When the room settled, it was time for questions.

As multiple reporters chimed out, I folded my hands in my lap and simply waited for my turn, quietly scoffing at the bumbling questions that were being asked. It was blatantly obvious none of their inquisitions would yield good articles, but I kept to myself.

When one of the paparazzi was busy inquiring the team's captain on what their goals were for the next game, my stare started to float towards Wakatoshi. To my surprise, he caught it, his eyes becoming the tiniest bit gentler when gazing into mine. His irises held recognition as his eyebrows raised and the expression upon his face became curious.

Giving him a small but embarrassed smile, I quickly mouthed a "good job with the match" before looking back down at my blank notepad. It was quite the shock to see that Ushijima still remembered me. My heart fluttered nervously as I bounced my leg, hoping that when I raised my head back up again that his eyes weren't still locked onto my figure. If anything else happened, I could've sworn I wouldn't be able to make it out of the press conference alive.

Slowly lifting my chin upwards, I peeked at Ushijima, pleading that I wouldn't meet his irises again. Breathing a sigh of relief when I found that he'd finally turned towards the reporter, nodding and paying attention to their questions, I was now able to properly focus on what I was assigned to do. As I jotted down a few notes and prepared myself for my segment of the interview, I hadn't noticed that a small grin was playing on the edges of Ushijima's lips, and a far-off look took the place of his usually attentive demeanor. 

__

That night, while I was submitting a report to my editor, I received a message from Wakatoshi. Surprised, I opened my phone and checked to see what he said. Smiling to myself while hoping that he'd rang me up to meet again, though it was almost impossible that he did, I scanned through his text and clutched my phone with both hands.

_I almost forgot that I had your number. Luckily, I went through my contact list and found you. We haven't talked in a long time -- I'm wondering if we could catch up. Are you free anytime this weekend? We could stop by a cafe and grab lunch._

"What."

Staring at phone screen in disbelief, my eyebrows furrowed as I took a double-take of what he just sent. This had to be the last thing that I was expecting to happen on such a quaint evening like this. Heat rushed to my face at the implications of meeting again, and I couldn't help but wonder what it meant. Was it a date, or was it just a luncheon between friends? Knowing Ushijima, he probably would have told me if he had romantic motives behind this, right?

Or maybe I just didn't know him as well as I thought I did.

I pressed my phone screen against my forehead and silently screamed into my hands, suddenly becoming flustered and unable to think, as well as speak. It felt like I was back in high school, fangirling over Wakatoshi like this. Back then, when he gave me even the slightest amount of attention -- saying good morning, interacting with me during breaks, walking me home from school -- my mind would race uncontrollably, stumbling over the image I had of him ingrained into my head. 

But to what extent was that depiction true?

Over the years, I'd obtained the notion that Ushijima Wakatoshi was transparent. He told the truth so blatantly and always acted in accordance with the perception I and everyone else seemed to have of him. He was strong-minded and never hesitant; he presented himself as being bold, unassailable, confident, and his fierceness on the volleyball court was unwavering. 

At that moment, I came to the realization that I'd never really gotten to know him as a person. I'd only approached him from a reporter's standpoint, and in turn, had only seen him through rose-colored glasses. To an extent, my conscience had manifested a false sense of Ushijima that I hadn't even realized was ingenuine. 

Feeling a bit disappointed at myself, I lowered my phone and thought about the predicament for a second. 

Considering my feelings, I debated with myself as to what I should do. 

I liked him, that was the one thing I was sure about. The manner in which he spoke, the way his eyes softened just the slightest bit when talking to me made me swoon. He was always kind and gentle to me, despite our height difference and his stature. I wouldn't even be surprised if my emotions had heightened after high school. 

Ushijima had an undeniable affect on my emotions, as cliché as that sounded. 

And though I was still unsure about whether or not he returned my feelings of affection, I came to conclusion that this was the one rare chance I had to get to know him heart to heart. Smiling as I started to form a response, my mind wandered off to fantasize about all the things that could possibly happen at our lunch date.

_I'll see you tomorrow! I heard from a friend that there's a new sandwich place opening near our alma matter :)_


	16. The Vulnerable

Arriving at the cafe earlier than expected, I took a seat at one of the corner booths, waiting for Ushijima to show up. I took the liberty of dressing a little nicer than usual, given that this was a possible date, or a meeting that served as a lasting impression of me on Wakatoshi, if I didn't see him again for a while.

The next five minutes had been spent looking at the menu, deciding on what to order at the newer establishment. It was when I'd already chosen my meal that the volleyball player arrived, clad in clothes that matched mine quite nicely. I waved to him and beckoned for him to come over to our reserved table, and smiled as he walked over.

"Ushijima, it's good to see you!" I chirped, inviting him to sit.

"It's great to see you as well. I'm glad you could make it on such a short notice." I laughed and waved my hand around, dismissing the thought. Ushijima seemed amused as he observed my reaction.

"It's not problem -- it's nice to be able to hang out with an old friend again."

As the afternoon progressed, we chatted leisurely about our lives after we graduated high school. Wakatoshi had immediately been scouted by the Schweiden Adlers during the time I went to university, and had recently become the reigning champions of Japan's V-League for the second year in a row. 

And though there was nothing unconventional about my time at college, Ushijima seemed particularly interested in my experiences with other athletes and opportunities I'd gotten for travel. Since high school, I diverged from writing elementary columns, and moved towards detailed articles and interviews, sometimes even getting hired to contribute in documentaries. 

"You really went to Brazil?" Ushijima asked, sipping on his drink, "Who'd you interview?" My response was more nonchalant than expected, given the influence of the figure I interviewed. 

"Giba." Wakatoshi's eyes widened as he set down his glass, making sure that he heard me right.

"Giba?" he asked, surprised, "No way." I smiled and finished my bite of food before saying anything. 

"I know, right? I was so incredibly lucky to have met him -- such a sweet man and an amazing athlete, though I'm afraid that I'm giving him less credit than he deserves." We both shared a laugh at the sentiment, then continued to talk about various other topics until the afternoon had ended, and the evening was upon us. The Sun had started its descent down the sky and into the horizon when we left. 

My throat was sore by the time we paid the bill because of how frequent and long our conversations were, but it was nice to be able to talk to someone for hours upon hours and never feel awkward or out of place. There was no struggle to communicate with Ushijima, there was no strain on our relationship, despite not being able to connect for more than three years.

But why did I feel unsatisfied?

I felt like I hadn't fulfilled my objective -- to get to know _him_ better. It would've been rude to say, but I didn't want to know about his team or his matches, I yearned to learn more about the person that he was. 

I sought closure, but his reserved nature prevented me from achieving it.

Setting aside the intrusive thoughts, I exited the café and tried to focus on making the best of the time we had left together. Looking up at Wakatoshi, he seemed indifferent at the moment, but soon proposed an idea for what we should do with the couple of hours we had left. 

"Want to take a walk?" he suggested, shrugging, "It's an off-day for the team in order to explore the city, then we have to head back to Koganei. Not that you or I need much exploring but I maybe you can show me what changed after so long." Happily agreeing to the proposition, I clapped my hands together and readily joined him on the journey towards the inner workings of the city.

"That sounds great! I know a bunch of places that underwent renovations, including the school. We can stop by there and check it out."

__

Once Wakatoshi and I arrived on the school campus, a wave of nostalgia seemed to overtake us. Even I hadn't truly looked at what changed on the Shiratorizawa grounds, despite living close to here and having many chances to revisit my alma matter. 

We walked around, pointing out things that never really changed, as well as the newer renovations the school had installed, such as a newer study wing and a smaller auxiliary gym with indoor tennis courts so that students could continue their practices without fear of the conditions of the outside. 

Eventually, we approached the auxiliary gym. My heart shivered at the sight, goosebumps rising all over my skin at the feeling of nostalgia that overtook my being. Hearing Ushijima take a soft, but sharp breath in, I chuckled a bit and turned to him with a knowing look.

"You too?" He just nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the structure with a burning intensity. I observed the fire that brewed in his eyes, mixed with the pain and yet simple joy of fond reminiscence. The emotion suited him well.

As my gaze wandered from Ushijima's face to the gymnasium, I couldn't help but notice the striking likeliness to the place where I grew so attached to in my youth -- it seemed as if so little had changed.

Though the outside of the building looked newly painted and polished, the gym had retained its old structure, with high metal bars supporting the roof that sometimes seemed like it threatened to fall down at any given moment. In the tensest moments of a practice match, it seemed as if the ceiling had already toppled down, exposing the bright sky above.

We continued to look at it for a while until our eyes grew tired of the sight. As Wakatoshi and I left the school grounds, I realized that a delicate atmosphere of silence had engulfed us both. Like the thinnest frame of glass, it would shatter at any erratic movement or sound. The only indication that it left of its existence was a pulling sensation that tugged against your heartstrings and beckoned for your feet to take one step closer to an uncertain future, however unfortunate or dreary it may be.

But at least it provided safety in the shroud of the youngest memories, and the ambivalent times. It provided comfort, in knowing that another was also capable of basking in the gossamer quietude the moment provided.

There was a unique sensation that bloomed in one's heart when sharing such a special instance with another, stranger or not. As I slowly turned my head to peek at Ushijima, I smiled upon seeing his relaxed expression.

However distant I may have felt back then, when I foolishly believed that I knew nothing of him, I didn't think I needed to feel it now.

__

Once we reached my apartment complex, I thanked Wakatoshi for dropping me off and managed a fairly long farewell, vying to extend the time when we were together.

"I had an amazing time today, Ushijima. Thanks for inviting me to such a wonderful day spent with you." He nodded with a lax expression and paused for a moment before responding with an unusually low tone.

"As did I. If you have time in the future, maybe we can do this again?" I cocked an eyebrow, finding his reply particularly amusing. Deciding to toy with him a little bit to get a larger reaction, I feigned not being able to hear what he said.

"What? Sorry, could you say that again?" He seemed caught off guard, but cleared his throat and tried repeating himself, this time, with a slightly louder voice and bolder tone.

"Maybe if you have time in the future, we could meet again." Still trying to pretend like I couldn't comprehend a single word that he said, I cupped a hand around my ear and furrowed my eyebrows. It took all of my might to keep a straight face. 

At this point the wing-spiker's cheeks had gone a light shade of pink, an indication that he'd become flustered at my behavior. As he tried to repeat the phrase for the third time, I burst into laughter, immediately interrupting him. It was a childish jest, but amusing nonetheless.

"I'm just teasing you," I said, voice ridden with breaks because of my giggling, "Of course I'd love to go with you again, Wakatoshi." Realizing that I had just blurted out his first name, I covered my mouth with a few fingers and whipped my head up at the green-eyed male to see his reaction, hoping that it wasn't something that was bad. Through the symphony of unholy sirens that were going off in my head, only one thought remained, floating around in my empty head:

_God, don't make me embarrass myself today._

As I locked gazes with Ushijima, instead of seeing a disgusted, or rather put-off pair of irises, I was met with a pair of wide, but curious and glimmering eyes. Of course, we were surprised to the same extent, but oddly enough, he didn't seem displeased. Though I viewed my manners as uncordial, there seemed to be a part of Ushijima that delighted in it. 

It was a part of him that I never knew I would grow to uncover.

For a minute, the whirlpools of my memory engulfed me.

A reporter had just finished asking him about the Schweiden Adlers during an individual press conference. It was completely out-of-the-blue, especially after all the inquiries about his future plans and career choices, that questioned his opinions of others, rather than his decisions that he would make for himself. Despite this, Wakatoshi didn't falter. He stared straight ahead, as if addressing everyone in that room all at once.

"In a highly functioning team with the correct fortification and attack techniques, you will find no weaknesses." 

In an instant, everyone's jaws dropped. We couldn't do anything but look at each other in amazement. 

Our irises screamed "headline," controlled by our newsfreak minds, but our hearts were rather genuine -- they cheered for the ever-astonishing male.

And Wakatoshi's eyes seemed to glow with such pride in the midst of the awestruck atmosphere surrounding the press. He was so self-assured and self-aware that everyone in the room knew that every word he spoke was the truth -- and admittedly, they were right. Every inch of him screamed power, but not for any no-good reason. We believed that he had a silent humility served as that roaring faculty's army because the strength he spoke of was completely intact and in place. There was no exaggeration -- Wakatoshi spoke bluntly, yes, but he never provided the press with a single lie. 

I couldn't break away from the glory that was him. My eyes were transfixed and my heart lurched, daring to jump out of my chest at the insane thought that it could reach him. Shaking my head, I dug my fingernails into my palms, cursing at myself for conjuring such an inane idea. All my high school insecurities in which I thought had gone away came rushing back to the pitfalls of my mind, crushing my rationale, leaving me stranded on an island of broken words.

How could I have hoped that we could be close? 

After all, I was a mere columnist, a high school friend, and he was the morning's rising star.

As I jolted back into reality, only then did I recognize the contrasting situations I was in. 

Before I could only look up to him as an idol, an unattainable figure that was so, so far out of reach. 

But now I stood in front of him as he professed his joy in being able to see me again.

"I'm glad," he said, smiling, "I'm glad we can meet again." I grinned back, feeling my cheeks rosy up and my eyes crinkle in joy. Wanting to taste his name on my tongue one more time, I mustered a final sentiment before leaving to go home.

"I'll see you soon then, Wakatoshi."


	17. A Weakness

A couple of weeks passed, and life continued as usual, with the exception of Wakatoshi and I messaging each other more often. We chatted about our lives and frequently discussed our schedules to see when the best day to meet again was. During this time, I found that Ushijima had relocated to a space in Tokyo, closer to where the Adlers team would usually practice.

Unfortunately, it was far from where I lived, but I was determined to make it work. Both of us were free on the weekends, but the problem was the transit price. If he lived close enough to me, I would've loved to come and visit every weekend via bike or car, but it wasn't an option when he lived over 200 miles away. I couldn't afford to spend a week's groceries on some train ticket every 7 days.

Sighing in frustration, I set my phone down and rubbed my temples, trying to make the ache in my head go away. The confounding problem of calculating the price and time for a small getaway only got worse considering that I was absolutely swamped with article samples to proofread, as well as an editorial to start -- all of which were due next week. My eyes settled on an unfinished manuscript in the background and narrowed, my eyelids trying to block out the unsightliness of it all.

A few minutes later, I heard a ring come from my phone. Checking to see who it was, I peeked at the screen and immediately sucked in a breath, making a face at the Caller ID. Ushiwaka was on the other line, and he'd dialed in for a video call. Feeling a sudden heat creep up from the base of my neck at imagining what he'd look like at this hour, I rushed to tidy myself up.

Quickly fixing my hair and brushing any dust off the visible parts of my top, I answered the call with hopeful eyes and a slight smile.

"Wakatoshi!" His eyes brightened as soon as my image popped up on his phone, waving to me through the screen. "It's so good to see you again!"

"It's nice to see you again as well," he replied, "How are things going for you? Hope you're not too busy trying to figure out the whole situation with the tickets-" I interrupted him, brushing the topic off, not wanting to bother with telling him the whole story.

"No, everything is fine -- just finishing up some writing projects. Y'know, the usual." Ushijima's eyes widened, as if regarding something tactless. He acted like he was guilty of something, though at the moment I didn't think that there was anything wrong until he piped up.

"If you're busy I can call back. I didn't mean to impose on your manuscript writing." I immediately gasped, panicking over on the other side of the call, afraid that I'd given him the wrong impression.

"No, no, not at all! You're perfectly welcome!" I exclaimed, hurriedly waving my hands around like a madman, "I was in need of a break, anyways." Wakatoshi seemed to relax a bit, his shoulders losing the tension that they previously held as his chest deflated a bit, relieving his lungs of a held-in breath.

"I'm glad," he said, "But you didn't answer my question about the tickets -- have you found anything yet?" I sighed, hesitantly glancing to the side, debating whether or not I should tell him about the situation regarding the calculations and workload.

"I actually... don't know where I'm gonna find the time for all of this," I admitted, putting a hand to my forehead and laughing, "Y'know, I honestly wish I could be a better person and manage these things, but-"

"I bought a ticket for this Saturday, actually." My eyes bugged out and a clapped a hand over my mouth in disbelief.

"What?" I shouted, "Wakatoshi, you really didn't have to! I could've done it myself, I-" He shrugged, holding up a printed ticket, the black and white ink heavily contrasting with the warm background it was presented in.

"Well, what's done is done. You can just get the ticket from me and-" I started to chuckle upon realizing that Ushijima had a _physical_ copy of the ticket, which defeated the purpose of it, as I was travelling to him. He seemed perplexed as I caught my giggles in the cuffs of my sweatshirt, my eyes averted to keep my composure and to avoid bursting into spontaneous snickers at his full expression.

"Wakatoshi, do you- do you happen to have an electronic copy of the- of the ticket?" I laughed, my sentences choppy due to the quick breaths I had to take in between words, "I can't- I can't get it if the real ticket is with you." Once the realization had dawned upon him, my laughter only grew as I saw his cheeks redden and his eyes suddenly tire as a fly flew to cover them.

"Don't worry, don't worry!" I repeated, trying to contain myself, "I-It's fine! It's fine!" We spent the next couple of minutes calming down, occasionally stealing glances at each other, awkwardly settling back into the mood. My cheeks were still dusted a faint shade of pink as I spoke after brief moments of quietude.

"Is there any way I can pay you for the ticket?" I asked, "I can transfer money to you via PayPal or something. We should work something out-" Wakatoshi shook his head, to which I coyly rolled my eyes to. He was too humble for his own good, sometimes.

"Just show up. Pick up a drink or two from the supermarket while you're at it," he replied, a small smile lacing his features. I shook my head and gave a sigh while laughing gently, adoringly gazing at my phone screen at the figure displayed on it.

Truly an unexpected character, he was.

"Thank you so much Wakatoshi."

__

It was Sunday, and I had just gotten off the train. Ushijima had sent me the directions to his apartment, and texted me the address to the nearest store so I could buy us some wine on the way to his flat. After stopping by a local Yokado, I swiftly made my way to my final destination, eagerly awaiting what the evening had in store for us.

Hurriedly pressing the doorbell upon my arrival, I anticipated Wakatoshi, bouncing on the balls of my feet in excitement. My mind wandered to what he'd look like coming through that door. I glanced down at my outfit, wondering if I'd dressed up too much, but discarded the thought as I heard a click come from the other side of the door.

The moment the door opened, my face lit up with a smile.

"Wakatoshi!" I exclaimed, embracing him, "I missed you." He hugged back gently, soft rumbles coursing through his chest as he replied with a simple "hello." Feeling my heart start to race, I quickly pulled away and held up the shopping bag of wine I had in my hand, taking the initiative to divert both of our attention from my flustered state.

Ushijima seemed to pick up on my thought process, as he invited me inside, parting to let me go through the doorway.

His place was more than conventional -- there was a hallway with a series of doors on either side that led to a living room fused with a smaller kitchen. He lived alone, but his place was rather spacious for an apartment that housed only one person.

I set my things down and took a bottle of wine out of the bag, wondering if Wakatoshi had brought any cups out. As I turned to him, I found that he was in the middle of bringing out two wine glasses from somewhere in his cupboard. He stopped for a second when he locked gazes with me, freezing as if he got caught doing something bad. I simply laughed at his reaction and took the glasses from him.

"Thank you Wakatoshi," I murmured. He nodded and went to grab a corkscrew, then promptly opened the bottles, the corks twisting off with a pop. I poured our drinks, handed one to the olive-haired male, and gestured to him for a complementary "cheers," to which he obliged to wonderfully. The sound of our glasses clinking echoed across the room, followed by quiet sipping sounds.

And thus, the evening began.

__

Hours had passed and needless to say, we were both completely and utterly wasted. Our faces were red as beets, our words were incomprehensible -- at least mine were, as Wakatoshi hadn't talked for the past hour. As I talked to myself, I suddenly felt a cold breeze brush through the room. Shivering and rubbing my arms, I thought for a moment before asking the man beside me a favor.

"It's getting a little bit cold in here," I spoke, feeling goosebumps arise and my hands go cold, "If it's not too much of a bother-" Before I could finish my sentence, Ushijima had already placed his jacket on me, silently shifting to adjust it so it draped over my shoulders perfectly. I smiled in appreciation, muttering a quiet "thank you" before going silent. 

Clutching the collar of his jacket, I felt an uncertain warmth bypass my shoulders, making its way into my heart. Shaking my head, I chugged the rest of my wine, then set my glass down and sighed, a spontaneous rush of determination filling my insides. Turning to the olive-haired male, I tried to meet his eyes but instead saw his expression.

He looked calm. He looked at peace, through all my constant yammering. I didn't know whether it was the alcohol controlling me, but my mouth opened to profess something.

In my conscience and in the brief moments before my confession, I knew that it was all over. My rationale begged for me to keep my lips sealed and for my feelings to emerge when the time was right. I pleaded and reasoned with myself, but the liquor seemed to overpower everything.

But I was unhinged.

Its perfume drugged me, binding me to this serum of complete and unrelenting truth. Adoration upon drunkenness mixed together and brewed liquid courage, settling into the pits of my stomach to turn into adrenaline.

And that was it.

"Wakatoshi, I like you."

There was no initial reaction from him, so I figured that he must've misheard me.

"Wakatoshi, I like you," I repeated, hopefully looking at the olive-haired male. His eyes widened as he turned to me, his eyebrows furrowing. Gazing warily at my drunken stupor, he looked disapproving, for a reason that my intoxicated self could not seem to decipher.

"Don't say such things when you're drunk, (Y/N)." The reply shocked me. I stammered a refute, desperately trying to disprove his statement.

"No! It's true! I like you, Wakatoshi!" I should've stopped upon seeing his expression, but I kept on going.

"I've liked you since high school! I like the way you look, I like the way you play, and the way you treat me! But I was so nervous and- and scared that you wouldn't like me back so I didn't say anything! We're so different but all I know is that I want you! I want to hug you and be with you and-"

My speech was cut short by a finger pressed against my mouth. About to protest, I opened my lips but held my words in once I saw Wakatoshi's face.

His eyebrows were deeply furrowed and his lips were quivering just the slightest bit. Though his eyes showed little difference, there seemed to be a change in his gaze -- his irises were less reflective and their olive coloration dulled. He took a deep breath in and lowered his hand, then stood up, getting ready to leave.

He looked hurt, confused, anxious. I gazed into his eyes, and in my drunken stupor I was able to glimpse into his eyes to peek at his vulnerable soul. It was as if his morale was in a vicious battle with his conscience at that moment -- both sides clashing furiously in a silent war with each other. I placed a hand on his shoulder, puzzled as to what exactly he was so confused about.

"Wakatoshi?" I spoke, "Is something wrong?"

He gently brushed my hand off, avoiding my gaze, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry." I sat there, confused and helpless. Feeling the urge to cry, my throat started to close as tears surfaced, turning my eyes iridescent and glossy. He looked remorseful, so much so. I couldn't bear seeing him in this state.

But it pained my heart the most when I heard his next remark.

"I'm not doing this to you. Not while you're like this," he whispered, "I can't hurt you." He swallowed, his eyebrows furrowed and his neck strained. God, I felt like sobbing.

Wakatoshi sighed and helped me up, silently bringing me to his room and setting me down on his bed. I couldn't say anything to him. Covering my face with my hands, I stayed in a hunched position as the olive-haired male stood up straight, preparing himself to leave.

I wanted to call for him to stay, but something in my conscience disagreed. It was sudden, but I knew that talking would only make it worse.

After a few seconds of waiting, Wakatoshi finally uttered the last soft, sad, words of the evening.

"I'll see you in the morning. Just get some rest. Please get some rest, (L/N)." He squeezed my shoulder and promptly left the room, leaving his coat with me. The thumps of his footsteps and the closing of a door were the last sounds I heard before everything went quiet.

Once I was sure that he was gone, I began to sob. I gripped onto the fabric of his jacket as tears began cascading down my hot cheeks, my heart aching with regret.

God, this was all my fault. I shouldn't have done this.

The shock and immense heartbreak I felt chipped away at the effect of the alcohol and eventually brought me back to reality -- sober, aware, and completely ashamed.

And all I could do was cry and sit there on the floor, my face buried in my hands and the haunting scent of Wakatoshi lingering upon my shoulders and back.

_What have I done?_

__

I woke up the next morning, sprawled out on Ushijima's bed with a massive headache. Clutching my forehead with a hand, I squeezed my eyes shut tight and felt around a bit, trying to reach for the bottle of Advil I usually had on my nightstand.

"Fuck," I groaned, "Oh fuck, where's the goddamn Advil." After patting a nightstand for a few seconds, I couldn't feel anything familiar in my drowsiness, so I peeked through half-closed eyelids only to find that I wasn't feelings around on my nightstand at all. Nor was I in my bed -- nor was this my house.

Gasping, I rushed to shove all the blankets off of me and whipped my head around to try and figure out where I was. Around the room, I saw framed photographs and neatly-placed mementos of Shiratorizawa volleyball gear, as well as an open closet that contained a variety of male clothes.

My heart stopped as my mind pieced everything together. The memories from last night came rushing back as I clasped a hand over my mouth in realization.

_Oh shit, I was still at Wakatoshi's house._

I jumped as I heard a knock at the door. My heart dropped as a haunting sensation of dread settled over me. Remaining at my place near the nightstand until the knocks came again, I took a deep breath and used the last of what little courage I had to tell Ushijima to come in.

Once he entered the room, I felt like my feet were glued to the floor. Blood rushed to my ears, filling my head with the sound of chaos amidst nothingness. This bone-crushing feeling took to my limbs, squeezing them relentlessly until I was completely and utterly mummified. Curling my fingers, digging my nails into my palms, I breathed in deeply, trying to steady myself in fear of collapsing right then and there.

"Hey Wakatoshi," I said in a meek voice, "Do you wanna talk? Sorry if it's too early for that." There was no response from him as he sat down on the edge of the bed in silence. He pat the spot next to him gingerly, trying to catch my gaze. I kept my stare averted as I nodded and moved to where his hand had previously been.

"I assume you're here to talk about last night?"

"What _about_ last night?" he suddenly mentioned. I winced at the tone of his voice, knowing that it sounded hurt. I pressed my lips together in a thin line, fighting the urge to cry. But no matter how much I wanted to run away, there was no stopping reality -- all I could do was try to explain myself.

"Wakatoshi, I-" I faltered, trying to make sense of the jumbled up text inside this mess of a mind that was mine. "I'm sorry for what I did last night. It wasn't my place to confess and put you in such a hard position. I'm sorry if I made you feel conflicted, or if I put you in the spotlight and inadvertently pressured you to do something that you didn't want to. The evening was supposed to be more relaxed than that, but it turned into a horrible mess because of me-"

I felt my nose begin to sting and my eyes begin to warm. Glancing at Wakatoshi, I could've almost started crying right then and there.

His eyes were cloudy, hiding all emotion from my discerning gaze, but I could tell that he felt conflicted. An unspoken amount of guilt riddled my being as I clenched my hands into fists and sucked up my emotions to speak the last of my possible obituary before I could no longer muster the energy to even open my mouth.

"But no matter how drunk, or how stupid I was, I meant everything I said last night-" My words were interrupted by an unexpected sob that came from the back of my throat.

I felt tears begin to surface. An insurmountable amount of tears that would take days to drain.

Yet my mouth kept speaking on its own accord.

"I meant it." My lower lip trembled, and as it did, it was caught in between rows of teeth in order to restrain it from becoming a blubbery mess.

But how unfortunate it was that these bones could not restrain my self from becoming a blubbering mess.

As I closed my eyes, hot tears began to streak down my face, coloring my cheeks with regret and sorrow. They slid down the sides of my face and dipped into the crevices near my cheeks, into my mouth so I could taste the salty bitterness that my emotions had yielded. Bowing my head, I could only bear the sensation of two olive eyes staring at my pitiful figure as I cried my heart out. 

"I like you, Wakatoshi," I whispered, my fingers clenching the fabric of my shirt, "I like you, so, so much."

After that, perhaps I was expecting that he would leave and demand that I get out of his apartment. Of course, it was I who forced my feelings upon him -- there was no obligation to reciprocate them, after all. I imagined that the world would forsake me, and I would be left to rot with my foolishness.

But instead, Ushijima placed his two hands and mine and gave them a small squeeze, the tops of his hands catching my tears as they fell from my eyes.

"That was what I was looking for."

Lifting my head up, I let out a small sob and immediately embraced him. Bawling on his shoulder as he patted my back, Ushijima brought me closer to him, pressing my heart against his own with no hesitation. His hands rested on my scapula and remained there, etching out their shape and molding my soul to such perfection.

Once we separated, Wakatoshi cupped my cheek and used his thumb to wipe away any stray tears, his softened eyes bearing into mine like sunbeams on a dreary day.

As I pressed my hand against his, I couldn't help but laugh, my eyebrows furrowing and my heart blossoming into peals of carnations. I laughed in relief, in warmth and fondness. In the absolute truth and there were no more nightmares.

And in return, Ushijima smiled, a great big grin stretching across his face as his shining irises stared into mine. As my heart beat erratically, thumping against my chest in fast but steady rhythms, I suddenly felt him shift forwards. My eyes widened when he started to lean in, face flushing at the thought of all of the possibilities this led to.

He stopped mere centimeters away from my mouth in his pursuit, however.

"Can I kiss you?" His hot breath fanned against my mouth, smelling faintly of peppermint.

By God, was I nervous. Anxiety riddled me all over, bringing my limbs to shake and lungs to seemingly collapse in on themselves. But I carried out a response, regardless, as my emotions had a mind of their own.

"Yes."

As his soft lips pushed against mine, the worry suddenly curtailed.

His right arm wrapped around the small of my back as he pulled me in, kissing me deeper. I couldn't help but try and stifle a small laugh as my fingers naturally entangled themselves in his hair, soft locks of olive and sienna sliding in between the digits. Wakatoshi's left palm slipped from my cheek to cradle the back of my head ever so gently, as if it were made from the thinnest of porcelain.

This was adoration.

My guard was completely let down, the walls I had around my mind disintegrating at the slightest touch from Wakatoshi.

Feeling an impossible wave of laudation swell up in my chest, filling my eardrums with golden hymns, I could only hear four last words rumble out from the depths of Ushijima's throat before melting into complete bliss:

"I love you too."


	18. Looking a Little Surprised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though I already realize that you're amazing, I'll act more surprised if you want me to.

**SOUNDTRACK:**

_BOUQUET OF BALLOONS ; LOFI_ **  
**

_I'LL BE THERE ; LOFI_

_FREUDIAN SUMMER ; LOFI_

_PASTEL SUNSET ; LOFI_

____

This story is best enjoyed while listening to the songs.


	19. Enthused

The coolness of the afternoon was comforting. As the wind rolled gently outside, undulating, I simply watched as the clouds glided across the horizon. In the moments they covered the Sun, they cast shadows of premonition onto the Earth, whispering to the people that perhaps it would rain sometime soon. I would stare at the sight with half-lidded eyes, comforted by the idea that this life would never end. 

Yet my thoughts were interrupted by an inexplicable wheezing sound. Turning an ear to the noise, I regarding my boyfriend behind me, who was violently tapping on my arm, body language screaming for help. I stifled a laugh and simply inquired him for the fifth time today:

"Are you alright, Korai?" Hoshiumi groaned and gave me a meager thumbs-up, shaking the slightest bit.

"I'm fine!" he yelled, voice muffled by my body pressed against him. I chuckled at his antics and sat up, allowing for the white-haired male to finally breathe. As I did, however, he took a deep breath, then angrily growled and pulled me back down, latching onto my torso with an iron grip. I yelped at the sudden sensation, gripping onto my lover's wrists. 

"Korai, stop!" I exclaimed, bursting into laughter, "I feel bad for suffocating you!" He screamed in response, filling the room with playful yet jovial sound. 

"I am capable of being the big spoon! I am capable! I grew two inches since high school, (Y/N)!" Sighing and rolling my eyes coyly, I broke free of his hold on me, turned around and pecked his cheek. My eyes stared lovingly into his, sparkling with rapture and utter adoration.

"But I'm still taller than you." With a groan at my irrefutable response, the stubborn male finally relented, relaxing his muscles and allowing for me to comfortably rest on top of him. I grinned and cupped his cheeks with my palms, my thumbs squishing them so that his face was adorably contorted. 

"It's okay, Korai," I murmured, my eyes focused on his prominent features, "If it makes you feel better, you've gotten more handsome since high school." I cackled as Hoshiumi's cheeks turned a bright shade of pink at my comment. He gripped my shoulders and brought me closer, so that my face was mere inches away from his. His eyebrows were furrowed gently, above trembling irises that I could get lost in. I always admired their unique coloration. 

"That does make me feel better," he bashfully mumbled under his breath. I hummed in amusement and used an index finger to lift his chin and turn his head towards me. Closing the distance between the two of us, I smiled and fluttered my eyes shut.

"I'm glad, Ko." Pressing my lips against his, I sighed and relaxed at the sensation of his kiss. This tender feeling was enough to make me melt in Hoshiumi's arms, so that I became absolute putty in his hands. Soft rumbles of pleasure came from the back of my throat as I pressed further, shifting to get a better taste of my lover's lips. Sensing Korai's back straighten and come off of the couch, I slid my hands across his shoulders and entangled them in his hair, happily enjoying the texture with my digits. 

"I love you so much, Korai," I breathed in between kisses, "You make me so happy." 

With these words, it was almost as if I could feel Hoshiumi's chest swell with pride and his spirit soar. Giggling at his behavior, I gave him one last peck before looking at him wholeheartedly. The white-haired male's eyes were widened, absolutely teeming with gratification, lustrous with an overwhelming sense of self. His mouth was pulled outwards into a grin, unabashedly showing the complete joy in knowing that I, his significant other, loved him. I thought it was one of the most endearing aspects of our relationship, to say the least.

"I'm happy when I'm with you, too, (Y/N)." 

I couldn't help but laugh and feel my heart swell at his charm. There was some inexplicable hold that he had on me -- one that tugged at my heartstrings and made me flustered beyond my wits. Every moment I was with him was bliss, though I felt as if I spoke in that manner with rose-colored glasses on. But truthfully, I loved him with all my heart. Every quirk and boisterous mannerism that he presented, I loved.

Placing a palm on his cheek, I kept looking into his eyes, wholeheartedly enraptured by how they gleamed. He seemed to be just as hypnotized in mine, which I appreciated. Korai put his hand over mine and nuzzled into my touch, eyes closing in satisfaction. Giving a delighted hum, he pulled me further into him so that our chests touched each other.

Giving a soft sigh and an acute smile, I kissed him again, my body heating as I felt Hoshiumi's arm wrap around my torso, holding my figure ever-so tightly. This continued on for what felt like eternity until we both ran out of breath, soft pants coming from our mouths as we parted. 

Having filled my quota for affection for the day, I slid down so that my face could rest comfortably against his chest and grinned. As Korai's hands softly cradled the back of my skull, I happily mumbled some reminders for tomorrow before I drifted off.

"You have a game tomorrow, but you're gonna be fine, Korai, I believe in you." Hoshiumi chuckled at my comment.

"Thanks for that," he laughed, patting the top of my head, "I think that I'll do fine as well. I'm pretty amazing, after all."

I laughed sleepily at his prideful demeanor and brought his hand down to press my lips against it before fully closing my eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it lulled me to sleep.

"You _are_ amazing, Korai."


End file.
